#this cannot possibly get any messier and I am LIVING FOR IT

[mairen-marionette]

✨🌼🌺❤️ for the oc asks?

Neo thank you so much for the ask I appreciate it so much! I like talking about my ideas honestly, I need to do it more.

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Okay so for Mirena, she is a character I have had some variations of for years now in my head for my own original work, (very long story that needs its own post or two), but the name itself is one I came up with some time ago and turned out to actually be a name in Latin, and I've kept it for this iteration of the character. Her nickname is Mira.

As for Miah, that is actually a nickname I came up with and figured out an actual name not long after. His full first name is Jeremiah, btw.

Miah and Mira, the Nälkän and the low-level reality bender both unwillingly employed by the Foundation and essentially playing one of the most stressful irl games of Among Us possible. And then more of their colleagues figure it out-

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Still working it out along with the timeline. Both are about early to mid-twenties, a bit young for researchers but then again so are other colleagues at this point. A lot of odd and desperate circumstances and very hard work have gone into getting to where they are today, as well as a lot of luck.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Neo I am so glad you asked! This is actually one thing I have developed a lot, I just need to write it out more.

Mirena has a girlfriend, Shannon, a shining Mobile Task Force newbie who ends up turning traitor to join the Chaos Insurgency- and despite everything, the love is still there. Shannon wants Mira to join her, Mira both cannot leave and absolutely will not join the Chaos Insurgency. Shannon is forced to flee, and Mira's left to deal with the aftermath. How fun.

And then they just keep encountering each other after that, and it is a whole thing that I have a lot of fun with and need to actually write out.

As for Miah, things are messier and to start with, here is the very abridged version of the man we call Miah's wretched traitor ex: Miah's a research assistant to a doctor and while working under this very shady man he ends up meeting a very nice site security guard who also happens to be relatively new to the whole working for the Foundation thing and they hit it off!

It's sweet, things are lovely, Miah trusts this guy and loves him so very much and tells him oh so many things- and then shit finally hits the fan all at once and in the chaos, boyfriend's true allegiances are revealed as he is in actuality a mole and Miah is unfortunately in the way and loose ends must be tied up, with overkill since he knows Miah is a fleshcrafter and those types are infamously hard to kill. Needless to say, Miah survived, with begrudging thanks to his now late boss who was all too happy to at last put his illicit research into action before he 'terminated his employment' on his own terms.

Needless to say, Miah is still very, very mad at his ex for that stunt and while he is fine with never seeing the wretch again, he would be all too happy to finally confront him and

It's not the only romantic relationship I have in mind for him, mind you, but it is a fairly major one that has had its impact.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Okay, that is hard to say but I have thought about this before, actually. At least for Miah.

For Miah, one of the memories he holds closest is from not long after he came of age, when he was more formally initiated into the faith he had converted to all those years ago. It is one of the proudest moments of his life, and he remembers it well- the makeshift ceremony in the forest on the night of one of the High Holy Days, the pride in his teacher's eyes and voice, and the pride swelling in his own chest, the happiness.

As for Mira, it takes the form of when she finally realized that she was in fact very much love with the bright, wild, lively woman sprawled next to her on the grass, staring wide-eyed at Shannon as she laughed and laughed. And then Shannon finally looks at her, grinning that signature wild grin of hers, and the researcher feels as if she is drowning, as she's had so many times.

Anyhow, thank you for the ask Neo, sorry it took so long for me to finish answering it! Hope you like it, friend. Sorry if it's too long.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (11)

STEVE

In the dim light of morning the Avengers returned from battle. It was messier than they had planned but the job was done. In the coming days there would be debriefings and meetings. Raised voices. Things to clean up. Steve couldn’t think about that right now.

Adrenaline seeped from his muscles and as they relaxed he felt sore. He peeled off his suit letting it pool in a heap at his feet. Steam from the shower filled the room. He didn’t test the water before he got in. It stung and turned his skin red but it melted away the last tendrils of the fight.

He was hoping you would be in his bed waiting for him. On the ride back he thought of burying his cock in you and just falling asleep that way. You must have been in your bunk. Knowing you’d be up soon he texted you to let you know he was back safe and passing out. He didn’t say it but he hoped to wake up next to you. He was asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

LOKI

He woke up in a panic searching for his phone. The sun was up and he just knew any moment a mad soldier would kick in the door and turn his face into ground meat. The text from Thor came just after dawn. Since he had not been bludgeoned he guessed they all went to bed.

He started drifting back to sleep when you began to stir. He smoothed your hair and kissed the top of your head. You leaned into his touch pressing your body into his.

Mornings with you were as close to his version of perfect as he could imagine. You draped yourself over him like armor to protect his most vulnerable parts. Armor he would wear proudly into any battle. He kept saying his mother’s words over and over hoping they were true. “She’ll come around” He couldn’t live on hope though. It wouldn’t sustain him. He hugged you tighter knowing that soon you would be in the arms of another man. He felt like he was losing everything though you were never really his to lose.

YOU

Morning found you still wrapped around Loki. Even in his sleep he looked pensive. The man never relaxed. Though, when you held him, his face was a little softer. The usual hard line of his lips was more lax. You could see the fullness of his bottom lip. You traced it with your finger. He didn’t move.

He loved you. You felt it all the time now. He made no effort to reign it in. The weight of his feelings made you feel heady like the night you drank Thor’s liquor. The fact was though you did not have the capacity to trust someone with your heart. To say love has burned you is an understatement.

There was your first love Bobby Myer. That unfortunate incident got you removed from school. Your friends wouldn’t talk to you. He spread a rumor that you had VD. It was awful. Then there was your boyfriend in college. Ethan. He was thoughtful and spoke about books like they were his lovers. He listened to indie rock and only drank coffee ironically. You were head over heels for him. Then you caught him sleeping with your roommate. That shock wasn’t an accident. You heard he still has a twitch.

The last was Andrew Kale. He was your best friend Jennifer’s brother. He was also possessed by the demon who killed your family. You were told that, when the family unleashed him, Hellphyr had already taken over and Andrew was deceased. You loved him so much it consumed you. You trusted him and he betrayed you. They both did. You promised yourself that you would never again fall that hard. Now look at you. You are in the same place with Loki that you were with Andrew. When you said you couldn’t trust Loki with your heart you really meant to say you didn’t trust yourself.

You knew Loki would worship the ground you walked on. You could feel it in how he made love to you. He wanted to take you apart and know every centimeter of your body. You could see yourself living somewhere impossibly sheik with a couple of kids. Twins probably though you weren’t sure why. They would be scary smart and only communicate telepathically with each other. You would be happy but so tight knit that you wouldn’t have use for outsiders. You would probably die on the same day. He wouldn’t allow himself to go on without you.

Steve on the other hand, you knew you could love Steve. He’s strong and dependable like an old pickup. He was sweet and kind. He had endless patience for you. And, let’s face it, he fucked you like it was his job. He’s really great at his job. You imagined having children with him. He’d probably want a bunch. You would never feel like an outsider. You would always be surrounded by family. You’d have a warm home always full of laughter.

Your fantasies aside, you had to do what was right and safe for you for right now. Getting lost with Loki wasn’t the best path for you at the moment. You both knew it. You had so much healing to do.

You stayed holding him for a few more minutes then decided he likely needed the rest. It was getting late and you were starving. You got dressed and set out to find food.

Nat and Wanda were chatting with a few people in the cafeteria. They saw you and waved you over.

“How did it go?” They didn’t seem beat up so you assumed well.

“Not bad. Clint broke Cap’s no casualty rule.” Wanda explained.

“He had to save Sam. There was a sniper ready to unload on him.”

Wanda held her hands up to yield, “I’m not saying it wasn’t warranted.”

“Is Steve still asleep?” Nat asked

“I’m assuming. I didn’t stay in his room.”

Wanda knew where you were. You changed the subject.

“Well I guess I get to go back to payroll. It’s been fun but, I have to say, way too much excitement for me.”

“Speaking of which, you had better be ready. Tony and Steve are going to ream your ass for that little stunt you pulled.” Nat warned.

“I got the job done. Besides. Loki was with me. Between the two of us I was quite safe.” They both shrugged. Just then Tony spotted you.

“You! Come with me. We need to talk.” He pulled you aside and unloaded on you.

“We have protocols for a reason. Stupid move killing your comms.”

“Tony I...”

“No. That was the last mission you’ll go on with us if you can’t follow simple protocol. I told you before. We cannot protect your ass. I know you are powerful but you are also powerfully stupid. Not only did you endanger your life but you put Loki’s life at risk and ours. We’re a team. We look out for each other. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good. I don’t like fussing at you like that. With all that said though, you’re an electrical engineer. I can use you at Stark Industries. I’ll pay much better than SHIELD and you’ll be doing a lot less grunt work.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“What’s to think about?”

“Lay off her Tony.” Steve’s voice warmed you to your very soul.

“Oh yay. Capsicle to the rescue. I expect an answer by end of business today, Y/n.”

You felt Steve’s arms sliding around your hips. He kissed you below your ear and whispered, “Hi.” A shiver ran up your spine. When you turned around to kiss him you saw his lip was split and his cheek was bruised. You frowned and touched his face. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I heal fast.”

“So I suppose you’re here to fuss at me too.” He tilted your head up to look at him.

“I wasn’t happy. I’ve been thinking about punishing you all night.” You smiled and your cheeks warmed.

“My my, Captain. I did not know this side of you existed. I’m intrigued. How do you plan to punish me?”

He chuckled a little rolling the many possibilities through his head. “I told you you wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. You disobeyed direct orders. That’ll cost your sweet ass at least two weeks.”

You kissed his too sore lips. He didn’t mind.

“I have to go to a debriefing. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or so. I need you to be in my bed when I get back. Be naked and ready. Make yourself wet. Think of your Captain when you fuck yourself with your fingers but don’t cum. All of your pleasure is mine.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You had better not disappoint me.” He pulled you in for a deep kiss. His lip re-split spilling the copper taste of his blood onto your tongue. You squeezed your thighs together to relieve some pressure. He felt your body shift so he wedged his thigh between your legs. He contracted his muscle hard and rigid against your heat. You could feel an orgasm building. You moaned in his mouth. “Not yet, Princess. I’ll see you soon.” One more kiss on the forehead and he left you there panting. You just about ran to his room when you heard Director Fury’s voice behind you.

“Y/l/n! Why was there a letter of resignation with your name on it handed to me?”

Fucking Tony. This ought to take a while. You wondered how punished you would be if you were late.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

you mentioned your headcanons on when and if other finweans forgive maedhros... if you wanted to share some (or all) of them I'd be very interested!

Okay, wow, I have a lot of thoughts on this….it basically covers large parts of a fanfic that I’ve had broadly plotted out in my head for a long time but am completely incapable of actually writing.

This is going to be very long (EDIT: extremely long, apparently) - and rather messier and more scattershot than my usual posts - so I’m putting it under a cut.  This one only covers events in the Halls of Mandos; I would need another one to lay out post-Mandos headcanons, if I can put it together.

Fingon is deeply conflicted and unhappy about Maedhros; he’s horrified by Maedhros’ actions, but he can’t stop caring about him even if he wanted to, and he doesn’t know what’s happened to him after death and isn’t sure he wants to know. For at least the first couple hundred years that Maedhros is in the Halls, he’s in extremely bad shape and is not communicating with or visible to anyone. (This is not unusual for elves who are wrapped up in their own thoughts or deliberately avoiding others.) And between Maedhros’ actions, and the manner of his death, and the Oath, Fingon can’t be sure of whether he’s even in the Halls, or if he refused the Halls and is a lost spirit, or even if he’s in the void.

Fingolfin is sympathetic to his son’s pain but doesn’t really see any hope for Maedhros, and tries to say that it’s hard, but that sometimes you have to accept that you’ve lost someone you love to evil and they’re not coming back. Fingolfin’s lost his brother (who he still has complicated feelings about. Aulë has lost people. Even Manwë has lost his brother -

That comparison doesn’t go over well and from that moment Fingon isn’t speaking with his father anymore.

When Fingon decides that not knowing is worse than anything he could know about Maedhros’ fate, he goes to Námo and asks whether Maedhros is in the Halls, and Námo tells him that yes, Maedhros is.

He looks for Maedhros. He seeks quiet corners of the Halls, and sings, and hopes Maedhros will hear him, and one day he senses in his spirit that someone else is present near him. He continues to sing, simple things, and then moves to the song he sang at Thangorodrim -

- and Maedhros is there, ragged and shaking and trying with all his might not to look at Fingon. Stop he says. Please, stop. Why must you torment me?

The last thing Maedhros wants is to be reminded that once, he had a chance to do right, that once, he had a chance to recieve mercy and he has thrown it away, to be reminded of the gaping gulf between the person he wanted to be and person he is. You still think you can rescue me? he says with a twisted smile, and holds out his hand. Across the entire palm and to the first knuckle of the fingers, it is charred black. Fingon’s expression goes stubborn and he takes Maedhros’ hand in his own - and then releases his hold in shock. The hand is hot - not as with fever, but as metal newly withdrawn from a forge. Maedhros gives a bitter laugh and disappears.

Fingon cannot find him again.

This brings the story roughly to the start of the part I wrote in response to your last Ask, where Maedhros goes to Nienna and recieves, beyond his hope, mercy and forgiveness and help and healing. That’s not the endpoint of his journey to recovery, but it’s the beginning; it gives him the knowledge that there is someone who can love him absolutely unconditionally, that he’s not beyond redemption. And that gives him the foundation he needs to start facing the people he knew and the people he’s harmed and answering to them and seeking their forgiveness.

The Halls have a will of their own, if you let them; their geography is as much spiritual as physical, and they’ll lead spirits to the people whom they need to resolve things with. Fingon isn’t the first person Maedhros talks to, but he’s one of the first.

*****

FIc snippet

It would have been easier if the Halls had brought him to the Teleri, or even the Sindar. He could bear condemnation from them.

He did not know how to bear it if Fingon turned him away. As he had every right to.

He wanted to flee to some abandoned corner of the Halls and never face Fingon again.

He wanted to lay at his friend’s feet for a year, for a yen, for an Age, and beg Fingon not to despise him forever.

He forced himself to do neither of these things.

Fingon had still not seen him; his eyes were shut, his head bowed to his knees and his lips moving wordlessly, and it was the evident misery in his hunched shoulders that gave Maedhros the courage to kneel down beside him say softly, “Fingon.”

He did not seem to hear. “Fingon. Fingon.” Fingon looked up, made a choked noise of surprise, and grabbed Maedhros by the shoulders, staring into his eyes for a long moment, and then pulled him into an embrace. “Thank you,” Fingon said, low and fervent, and Maedhros knew it was not him that Fingon was addressing.

“You’re all right. I mean - not all right, but - better.” A spirit’s appearance in the Halls drew on both their true condition and their perception of themself. Maedhros was clothed in rags, his hair matted, but his hand no longer burned and he could meet Fingon’s eye with a look that, though still deeply ashamed, was no longer tormeted.

“The Lady of Sorrows has been very kind. Far more than I could ever deserve. Though in truth even to be in the Halls is better than I deserve.”

“Maedhros, surely you cannot believe that you deserve the Darkness?”

Maedhros’ laugh was rueful. “Deserve it? I believe I specifically requested it. Demanded, even! What does it say, that the very worst anyone could do to us would be to take us at our word? But by the end I earned it more in keeping the Oath than in breaking it.”

The question refused to be suppressed. “Maedhros, why? We beseiged Angband for over four hundred years without attempting regain the Silmarils, and the Oath did not trouble you then, yet the moment one was in the hands of Elves - ” Fingon paused. “Maedhros, please tell me it was not because of my death.”

Maedhros’ words came halting. “I blamed myself. I blamed the Valar. I blamed the Doom. I told myself that abandoned you again, this time to your death. I told myself that if this was how I was repaid for trying to win the war, if the Powers had mandated that any attempt to do good could only turn to evil and the destruction of all that I loved, then they had no right to judge me for doing ill.  I told myself that I had chosen war on Angband to avoid war on Doriath, and if they were going to punish me for that choice, well, then they were in no position to complain when I made the other.

“I was wrong. We were not wrong to fight Angband, but on my part the Fifth Battle was waged in service of the Oath, and everything done in its service turns to ill. Good becomes evil. Evil becomes…worse. The words we intended to drive us against Morgoth turned to his service, and we did his work.

“I am sorry for what I have done. I will spend the rest of Time being sorry for it. We should have thrown ourselves against the walls of Angband and died there rather than ever again raising our swords against our kin. You have every right to despise me.”

Fingon, lacking words, took Maedhros’ remaining hand and lifted the burnt palm to his lips. “I will not leave you. I hate what you have done - I would rather have seen you dead on my blade than do any of, though that would have killed me - but I will not leave you.” He wrapped his arms around Maedhros again. “Please don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

The dead have times of rest of thought, even if it not what the living would call sleep. A little time later found Fingon resting with his back against a pillar and Maedhros curled on the floor, his head pillowed on Fingon’s feet and an expression of deep contentment in his face.

*****

My thoughts on Aredhel and Maedhros are in the Halls are largely covered in this post.

*****

Turgon, in contrast, is exceptionally angry at Maedhros, especially about the Third Kinslaying, and not at all inclined to forgive or to care for apologies. This is also wrapped up in Turgon’s own guilt about the Fall of Gondolin. He feared that he had left the remnant of his people defenseless against Morgoth, but Ulmo found a way to protect them through the waters at the Mouths of Sirion; instead, they were defenseless against Maedhros and his brothers. And to Turgon, Maedhros’ renunciation of both the Oath and the Silmarils after his death is meaningless, because he did so only after he had lost any possibility of achieving the Oath or obtaining the Silmarils. How can it mean anything to renounce evil only after you’ve lost the ability to commit it or to gain anything from it?

Maedhros and Turgon have an intense conversation on these points (well, intense on Turgon’s part) while Maedhros is in the Halls. Maedhros, for his part, while he does want to apologize and beg forgiveness, does not really have any expectation that Turgon will forgive him; his hope in his early conversations with both Turgon and Fingolfin is mainly to arrange a detente where the Nolofinwëans can get back on good terms with each other by dint of all of them agreeing to just not talk about Maedhros (who is the primary subject of contention between them). This, he does succeed at.

[nikkoliferous]

Now, About That Sceptre

Based on hair growth, if nothing else, it seems that a fair amount of time must have passed between Loki's appearance in the post-credits of Thor (2011) and his dramatic entrance via the Tesseract in Avengers Assemble. Despite the apparent time jump, Loki's physical well-being is still clearly... not great. His appearance has improved in some ways from the horror show above (the burns have healed, his mouth isn't full of blood), but he shows a number of signs of heat exhaustion, at a minimum (something especially relevant because, remember, Loki's a Frost Giant). He's visibly exhausted and disoriented, he nearly collapses on multiple occasions, he's sweaty and pale with dark and sunken eyes. This is not a healthy man. And while there was maybe an argument to be made for his prior physical distress being contributable to the effects of the wormhole, whatever's happening here is all Thanos.

Beyond his immediate physical state, he comes across as paranoid, afraid—desperately fighting to get through just this one moment, and then the next, and then the next. If he just holds it together a little bit longer, he'll be safe. He'll be able to rest. Watch how he stumbles. Observe his deathgrip on the sceptre and on the truck rail. Look at his desperate facial expression and body language. He's trembling.

Now we're getting into psychology, and well... Loki says some odd things throughout this film. The Loki of Thor (2011) was clearly dealing with a mental health crisis, but the Loki of Avengers Assemble seems—not to put too fine a point on it—crazy. And he's not just crazy. His words and his body seem to, at times, be in direct conflict with one another. He may talk down to the humans, but he appears to take little pleasure in actually hurting them. And yet he summons an army of aliens with the expressed purpose of doing just that. He's sassy and grandstanding while facing the Avengers, but on the occasions where he's violent with civilians, as well as whenever he's alone, he appears to dissociate from himself. Look at his face. This is not remotely fun for him. He looks dead inside.

Overall, Loki's body language and facial expressions often betray a Loki who is struggling to justify his actions. He seems, at times, almost as though he is speaking to himself as much as he is taunting the Avengers or humanity. Here are some quotes/scenes that grab my attention.

For a start, there are these exchanges with Fury shortly after he first arrives via the power of the Tesseract:

Fury: "This doesn't have to get any messier." Loki: "Of course it does. I've come too far for anything else."

"I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose."

Loki: "I come with glad tidings of a world made free." Fury: "Free from what?" Loki: "Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie. Once you accept that, in your heart, you will know peace."

He goes on to reiterate his bizarre speech about "freedom" again in Stuttgart.

"The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

This all sounds a lot like indoctrination to me, and it's worth noting that the Black Order—for whom Loki is ‘working’ in this movie—is literally a cult. In fact, they use very similar rhetoric at the beginning of Avengers: Infinity War. Compare this to Loki's rhetoric on the nature of freedom:

"Hear me... and rejoice. You have had the privilege of being saved by the Great Titan. You may think this is suffering. No. It is salvation. Universal scales tipped toward balance because of your sacrifice. Smile, for even in death you have become Children of Thanos."

And then there's Loki's outburst directed at Natasha after the Avengers have taken him prisoner for the first time and she's trying to get information out of him:

"You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you and they will never go away!"

Before this moment, he seems relatively calm and in control. Something changes here; he becomes disgusted and aggressive. His words could easily be applied to himself as well. Here Loki is on Midgard, pretending to have his own agenda. "Something that makes up for the horrors". Yet as much as Loki claims to be free of sentimentality, we as the audience know better. We can see it in his microexpressions and his body language. We know of his being psychically linked to The Other. We see the nature of Loki's interactions with them: the tears in his eyes, the threats and his attempts to suppress and hide his fear, the pain they're able to inflict on him with just a touch.

"If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain."

There are also subtle indicators that Loki's memories might have been tampered with, such as his initial conversation with Thor.

"Our father—" "YOUR father. He did tell you of my true parentage, did he not?" "We were raised together! We played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?" "I remember a shadow. Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss."

Yes, of course, it's possible that this is hyperbole on Loki's part. Regardless, it's worth noting as part of a pattern of bizarre, cult-like behaviours that Loki displays throughout the movie. It becomes even more noteworthy in light of the revelation that Loki was being influenced by the mind stone all the while. The specific phrasing Marvel uses is, "fueling his hatred over his brother." Does that include distorting his perception of what's happened between them? It's not conclusive, but it's certainly possible.

Now, Loki does at times appear to be genuinely enjoying himself. I'm not denying that or sweeping it under the rug. But look at the context. Notice when he seems to be the most amused. It's when he's grandstanding. It's when he's the center of attention. When people run screaming from him. When he's being interrogated. It's not the violence that pleases him; it's the recognition. For the first time in his life, he's center stage. He feels powerful. And Loki will always take negative attention over no attention at all.

Simmer down there, you lovable maniac.

At the other end of the spectrum, however, we have moments like just before he stabs Thor, in which he looks at the destruction around him with legitimate panic and horror written on his face. As though he's awoken from a haze and is only just realising the extent of what he's done. (Side note: for the life of me, I'll never understand people who call Loki a psychopath. Every single time we've seen Loki hurt Thor, he does it literally with tears in his eyes. And yet Ragnarok would have us believe he's done so all throughout their childhood just for funsies).

Surely this isn't the expression of a man who wants all this death and destruction—who's carrying out his own will. And why should he? Even if he truly meant to/cared about ruling Midgard, there's little reward in ruling a world of corpses.

Which brings us to our ultimate conclusion. As mentioned above, there have long been theories—now confirmed canon—that Loki was under the influence of the sceptre AKA the mind stone throughout Avengers Assemble. An observation I had missed initially is that some fans desperate to cling to Loki's identity as a Villain™ have differentiated between the total mind control of Barton and Selvig and the 'influencing' of Loki's behaviour via the sceptre. But note that the same language is used for both instances:

"Gifted with a sceptre that acted as a mind control device, Loki would be able to influence others. Unbeknownst to him, the sceptre was also influencing him."

I do believe that the mind control over Loki was less effective; he clearly maintained some measure of autonomy, despite the sceptre's influence. But I still think it's important to note the consistency of language used. And in fact, it’s worth noting that his control over Barton and Selvig wasn’t absolute either. Barton admits he may have failed to kill Fury because of his connection to him; Selvig installs a failsafe for shutting down the portal.

We also know—thanks to yet another stupidly discarded deleted scene—that The Other can hear and communicate with Loki at all times. Look at the longing on Loki's face when Thor tries to reason with him. He wishes so badly that he could accept Thor's offer. But this is still a hostage situation. He's on permanent speakerphone, and he knows there's no safe escape route for him.

↩️ back to the compendium

[kpop---scenarios]

Collateral (2)

Warnings: Language, Beginning of smut, flirting. You know.

Part One | Part Two

When you imagined your life, you pictured going to school for something you loved, getting a great job in your field and eventually settling down with someone you loved and wanted to spend your life with. You even thought about possibly having children one day.

You were just beginning your plan, searching for what you loved to do. You’d tried many different jobs already. Working in a café, with children, with senior citizens but nothing had stuck out to you yet. You’d been thinking of looking into working with animals possibly next but thanks to your brother, your plans had been derailed.

Instead of working with puppies and kittens you’d now be a maid for the mafia. Not quite something you had pictured yourself doing but alas here you were.

How could your brother do this? How could he steal, let alone steal from the fucking mafia.

Suho had told you that one of the men, Kai had picked out a special uniform for you to wear. However, the way he said it had you wondering how bad it actually was going to be.

“Kai" Suho began. “Show her where she’ll be staying and her outfit. I have shit to do” he finishes.

You’re grabbed by the arm by a man with a dazzling smile on his face.

“This way baby girl" he says, yanking you from your chair.

You trip over your own feet as he drags you from the office, never letting go of your arm. He leads you through a hallway to a large living room littered with men.

You thought you’d felt fear before, but that was nothing compared to this. Some of the men smirked at you while others just glared. After a few looks you hung your head down, not wanting any more attention.

He leads you out of the of the living room and down yet another always, stopping at the first door. He opens it to reveal a very tiny room. Dusty as fuck, with a small cot and a small dressed. You had one lamp on the dresser for light and a black bag laid out on the cot.

He leans in close, his hot breath against your ear. “Your outfit” he whispers. “You have two minutes to change" he says before closing the door, leaving you in the dark. You have no windows to shine some light in as the sun rises, so you’re left with making your way to the lamp.

Finally reaching it, you quickly turn it on before unzipping the bag to reveal a rather skimpy maid’s uniform, almost like the one you would wear to a bar on Halloween.

No. Nope. No way, you were not wearing this.

You swung the door open, seeing Kai standing there with a confused look on his face.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” He asks, clearly unamused.

“I’m not wearing that.” You deadpan. I’m not some whore” you spit.

Kai quickly slams you against the door? His hand squeezing your chin and cheeks together.

“You’re whatever we fucking say you are. You have no choice. Unless you want to see what’ll happen if you refuse to listen" he snarls into your ear before letting your face go.

“Get dressed" he snaps.

You rush back into the room, Kai slams the door behind you. With tears threatening to fall down your cheeks you strip out of your pajamas you were still wearing and trade them in for the skimpy outfit.

The thing just barely covers your ass, your tits are almost popping out, not to mention it was tight. You were embarrassed to be wearing it, but you really didn’t want to know what would happen to you. You just knew Kai would be good on his threat.

Opening the door, Kai smiles smugly, but he is not alone. The other man with him also had a smirk on his face while looking you up and down, eyeing you like you were a piece of meat.

He bites his lip as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling even more exposed than you did while you were alone.

“Baekhyun stop scaring the girl" one says walking up to you. “I’m Lay, the doctor. I’ll be showing you around and letting you know where you can and cannot go.” He says giving you a small smile.

You like him. He’s the one of the only ones who hasn’t stared at you like they were going to rip you apart.

He begins walking down the hall, all the doors closed. You can only assume they’re bedrooms.

“Unless given permission, do not under any circumstances go in any of these rooms” he says, his voice serious. “Bathrooms, kitchen, dining room, living room are all places you can clean. There are lots of men here everyday but only nine of us live here" he tells you. You nod along.

Only nine. Great.

“Can you cook?” he asks.

“Yeah" you answer.

“Usually Kyungsoo cooks but we get tied up sometimes and he doesn’t feel like it.” He says. “All the supplies you’ll need are in this closet. And whatever you do, don’t go into the basement.” He finishes before walking away.

You guessed you’d start with the kitchen since that was likely one of the messier rooms. You grabbed your supplies before making your way to the kitchen. You can feel the eyes on your body as you walk through the living room. You keep your head down, only peaking up when you need too.

**

You spent your time on the kitchen, making sure everything was done correctly. The cabinets were cleaned, the oven deep cleaned, dishes were done and put away, floors were scrubbed, fridge was cleaned. You saved the easiest thing for last, wiping the counters. You sprayed them down before washing them thoroughly.

Your work is halted by the feeling of someone behind you.

“Excellent job princess" he says, his voice deep.

“Thank you" you let out a small whisper.

“I like your outfit” he says, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Chanyeol, stop creeping out the maid. Let’s go, Suho needs us" you hear Lay calling for him.

“Until next time" he whispers before leaving to meet up with Lay.

You let out a sigh of relief. This job was going to be hard and there was no guarantee you were going to make it out alive.

**

A few hours later the boys returned and you were told you could be done for the day. Lucky for you, Kyungsoo was back and you weren’t needed to make dinner. You retired to your tiny closet, immediately laying on the bed.

You’re only laying there for about 20 minutes before you hear a small knock at your door. You open it up and are surprised to see Lay standing there with a rather large plate of food.

“I thought you’d be hungry" he says, handing the delicious smelling meal to you.

“I am, thank you" you whisper, wanting to inhale it all now.

“Just bring the dishes to the kitchen when you’re done" he says before nodding his head and walking away. You sit on your bed, savoring the taste of the food until every last piece is scraped off your plate.

Taking your dishes to the kitchen, you quickly wash them and put them away before heading to bed, falling asleep rather quickly.

**

A few weeks have gone by since you’d be taken to pay off your brothers debt, and things had started looking up. Despite the creepy men who always watched you work, you had been becoming semi friendly with some of the boys.

Baekhyun, Kai, Chanyeol, and two new guys to you, Xiumin and Sehun were relentless with their heavy flirting but you had learned to brush it off. Suho was always locked in his office, you really never saw him unless it was for dinner or the rare occasion they had a meeting in the living room. Lay was always busy in the basement, considering everyday at least one person was brought in with a gun shot wound or having been stabbed.

You were starting to feel comfortable, even if they were in the mafia and killed people. You knew they could turn on you if they chose. But in reality you had no choice but to be there, so you took your chances.

You had been cleaning down the hall from Suho's office, dusting sculptures and paintings when you heard a small groan from the office.

Walking down the hall, you notice his door is half open. You were going to ask if everything was alright, but you were a little distracted by his head thrown back and his hand wrapped around his cock.

You let out a small gasp on accident, which made him jerk his head up, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I-I'm so sorry.. I’m going to go" you stutter before turning around to run out.

“Wait" he growls. You turn around, looking up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact.

“I was thinking about you. The way you look in that little outfit, the way you bend over in front of me and the boys” he groans.

You could have possibly been flirting back with them but you hadn’t thought much of it.

“And?” you ask with a small smile, brave enough to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you come over here and help me" he smirks, leaning back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head.

You step into his office a little more before closing the door and locking it.

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

Tag List:

@marshmallow-phd @making-me-blush @hazel-eyes5 @mntax @justdidabadthing @skittlez-area512 @exo-chan-kai @btstxtstanninprogress @skjdln @cupidoargiades @im-a-special-bebe @sarangkaeyon @justasouthernlady @little-miss-exo @byunayeon @etaerealboy @mindofthescattered @corycries @lovebuginlove

[mochifufu]

보내고싶었지만 차마 보내지 못해서 여기다가라도 남기는 아무한테도 가지 않을 글 —

If you're thinking something happened recently that made me block you, then you're wrong. You were also wrong about the reason I blocked you the first time, but to maintain friendly terms for the sake of you and all our mutuals, I just let it be. The reason I blocked you both times is actually quite easily identifiable if you consider all your actions starting from after February break. You wanted to hang out a lot, and I did not take that as anything, because I try not to assume things. I did find it weird but I decided that your intentions did not matter because I did truly appreciate someone making that much effort to reach out to me (same goes for every time you reached out to me; no matter how frustrated I was with the way you treated me, I genuinely felt grateful every time you bothered reaching out).

But ever since KZ sat me down and spoke to me about you in Brandon's room, everything got weird. I'm not blaming KZ; I think she was trying to be a good friend to you. But I do think that she should hold some responsibility for telling me the things she told me in that room and also for telling you what I told her. I've been in a couple instances where middlemen were involved, and none of those went right. I don't think anything goes right when people start actively getting involved in others' businesses, and that is why I get paranoid when I tell you things -- because I feel like if it spreads, even if it's not malicious or important, everything just gets messier. It's not because I don't want to be called a snake, as you assumed so when you brought up the Ben Stephanie story when I was talking to you about the rumour involving you backstabbing. You started flaking hardcore back to back ever since that day I spoke with and somewhat opened up to KZ, and such drastic change in the way you treated me after that got me to believe that I did something wrong. I kept thinking and thinking endlessly about what I could have possibly done to make you treat me so horribly all of the sudden, but could not point to anything and ultimately it was not helpful for my mind or body.

I really did appreciate you as a person and did enjoy all the times we spent together and did care about you; that is why the change in your behaviour had such an impact on me. I really needed someone that understood what I was going through to be there for me, and you did seem like you understood, so I was thankful for you. Yes, I may be more sensitive than others, but that does not change anything about the way you treated me. I think I touched upon everything during that call in April regarding the events that happened on campus and until that call, and I don't want to seem like I'm holding grudges. However, I really can’t dismiss that instance of you voluntarily offering to pick me up from the hospital, only to tell an hour before my discharge that you have class so you cannot. That really tore me apart and is still affecting me. Someone that supposedly "really likes" me and "views [me] differently from other girls" (quoting KZ) treating me like that was hard to process. You kept bringing up the one time I ever flaked on you, which was that same day you ditched me at the hospital, but how do you even have the audacity to bring that up? If I didn't have Brandon coming to pick me up that day, I would‘ve had to uber myself from the hospital in embarrassment, because I would not have taken anyone else's offer to pick me up if I really trusted you to pick me up. Even after that, you didn't even let me know when to come for the dinner that you set, when I explicitly told you to let me know when. As I told you in April, I actually was convinced of going despite everything that happened, but the real reason why I did not was because I was told right before that dinner that you told KZ that you don't like me anymore. Would you have gone to eat with yourself if you were in my shoes? Hearing that just confirmed all my theories that I had going around in my head. This was only a week after that day KZ and I had that talk. If your feelings change that quickly, then you can't say that you ever even liked me and you should have reflected on your own feelings a little more carefully before letting it get to me. You are free to feel whatever and however you want to, but once you let it out and get it to affect others, then that becomes your responsibility. This whole instance just made me feel as though you had a fleeting interest in me so you kept me around, and once you lost your short-lived so-called feelings, you just threw me out as if I were your toy. That is part of the reason why I could never trust you or your words fully, or be honest with my feelings because I always felt like I'm disposable to you and that you will just yeet off when you find a replacement.

Your flaking never stopped even after we all left campus. You apologized in April, but nothing changed after that. Same goes for when you apologized in August. An apology is only completed after it's shown consistently through action. You might have tried to be more considerate and respectful for me and my time right after apologizing, but both times it never stayed consistent. You made me feel like I was always the last resort in your life. Have you ever really marked down a plan with me and set that time aside for me? I personally think that if you truly care for someone, you would voluntarily set aside time for them and actually abide by it because you genuinely want to spend time with them. I've never asked to be your priority, ever. But when you make plans with someone, it is common sense to prioritize that person and their time within the timeframe set aside for them at the least. I don't think you've ever done that aside from that apology call. Yes, you did make a lot of effort to call and reach out to me and I am grateful for that, but if you think about it, it always revolved around your time. You said I made you feel unwanted and that I don't take initiatives, but how can I take initiatives for someone that seemingly doesn't respect me at all? I did not want to fall into the same trap of thinking that you actually care about me and that your sweet words actually mean something when they're in fact just carelessly thrown around with zero meaning.

All of this combined just tells me that you probably were confused when I blocked you the first time but didn't care enough to do anything about it, and only when you were considering going back, you reached out to me because you wanted a safety net. This conclusion was solidified when you started talking to me less after we had that call about how you were probably not going to go back. Also, you never really treated me like a "close friend" and I'm sure you are aware of that at the least. You never treated me like a platonic friend yet I hear that you talk to "a looooot" of other girls.. I am not salty that I was not the only one you were talking to non-platonically. You have every right in this world to do so. It's just that I don't want to be a part of the pool of people you just string along for your own entertainment. Continuously feeling like I'm the last resort and that I can be just replaced by another string-along girl any time obviously did not feel good, and I could not view you simply as a friend because you did not treat me like that.

No hard feelings, but I just did not appreciate the way I was treated and because you seemed like you were not going to stop anytime soon with the way that you were treating me. I had to block you to stop myself from feeling like I don't deserve any proper love or care. Your words were compelling, but your actions were the exact opposite of everything you said and I could not continue playing along and pretending to be okay with that when in fact I was actually quite sad. As I've reiterated numerous times, I really did and still do appreciate a lot of the times spent and you as a person, and wouldn't mind being friends with you. Blocking was a temporary measure because I couldn't let myself be sad like this forever, but I thought it would be worth a while to consider your side of things as well, since there are always two sides of things. If you don't feel comfortable talking about it, I will respect that too.

[escapedchickens]

The Soapiest Moment

A prompt I wrote for @gavimp and I thought it would be fun to add here since it relates to the light side of the AU. The above picture is from me, while the other is from her. This is also the last DBH related post of this blog, as future ones will be on the side blog @yorkshire-androids-au

The Soapiest Moment Ever

By Canuck

Today is Sunday, and it is Babs’ turn to wash the bathroom. Willard tidied up the washroom out of habit, but drops it when he sees Melisha walking by the Hallways with an AX 0017 model. He looks back at the washroom before fetching Babs from the living room. The android waits patiently at the living, eyeing her little knitting projects. Humming a positive tune and looking around in a flighty look before seeing Willard approaching her. “Morning Willard, did you and the Missus have a good breakfast?”

“That I did, Babs. Are you ready for today’s chores?”

“Oh, I am more than ready, Willard,” She says happily as she stuffs the knitting project in her apron and picks up a basket of cleaning supplies. “What area am I cleaning first?”

“You will do the East wing today; it comprises one of our Bathrooms, the guest room, the den and reading area. If you can start with the bathroom, that will be ideal. You think you can be alright cleaning it?”

“Of course, that is what I am programmed to do: sweep here, wipe there, just making sure the house is a home.”

Willard nods as he guides her to the washroom. The washroom is not too messy, as he tidied up a bit earlier today, but he cannot help but feel guilty for leaving it in a state. “Some places could have been better but a little help would do. Perhaps you would like some help as well?”

Babs bobs her head to the side and enters. “Oh no thank you, I am sure I can get it done soon. What is life without a little challenge? I will let you know if I need something.”

“Of course, I’ll let you to it.” Willard nods and continues on the rest of the East wing of the mansion. Out of habit, he picks up any bit of papers lying around and place them in a bag for recycling. Next, he goes to the broom closet and neatly set the vacuum at the corner of the den, and a broom and dustbin at the reading area. It should be enough to make cleaning a little easier. He more or less feel accomplished at his part of the task, as he feels more involved in his androids tasks than just doing nothing. He hears a high-pitched yelp from the bathroom and runs to the room. Here, he sees Babs’ frilly dress sticking out from the edge of the tub while her feet are kicking up in the air.

Willard leans over to grab Babs by the hand and pulls her to her feet. He feels a slight slip under the floor and grabs onto the counter. Babs looks down and up at Willard, already with an apologetic look.

“Oh, I am sorry, Willard,” says the android. “I thought I was done with the bathroom until I noticed the grimy ring around it. It would be wrong to leave it. I really tried to scrub, but the thing is just so stubborn. I may have used more soap and chemicals than intended.”

Willard shakes his head and pats her hand “No worries, love, you were simply doing your job. The bathtub can be hard to keep nice and polished. But don’t fret, I could barely see it, you did quite well in the bathroom.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, Babs,” Willard place some paper towels on the floor and guides the AX 0017 model to the hallway. He picks them up and place them in the trash. “There you go, all clean. Now, how about we go to the next room?”

“I like that.” Babs goes to the corner of the den starts the vacuum. Willard watches the bot cleans with ease, taking up all the little bits of specks to her vacuum in one setting and turns off to empty the filter into the trash bag. She places the filter back to the vacuum and sweeps off the remaining dust with a small brush. From the shelves, to the floor. She notices Willard chuckling and gets up with a smile, laughing along with him. “What is it, Willard?”

“It’s just, seeing the soapy floor all over reminded me of something I did with Jack and myself.”

“Oh, what thing?” She picks up the trash and recycling bin to the next room. “Did he get clumsy with cleaning too?”

Willard laughs and picks up one bin. “Not really, but a lot of cleaning was involved, I’ll tell you while you clean the next room.”

“Sure thing!” Babs replies in a chipper tone. She enters the reading area and sweeps the floor. Willard smiles and grabs a cloth the wipe the shelves. “Soap on the floor reminds me of a time Jack and I attempt to do this silly thing with bath bombs.”

“Bath bombs? Oh, those little ball thingies that dissolves and makes the bathtub all colourful?”

“Yes, yes, those things. When Jack was around, he and I were getting into those things and enjoy watching them dissolve whenever we have some bath time. It feels like watching art in the bathtub. We were so into them, that we had the bright idea to see what happens if we release them all at once.” “All at once?” Babs pauses and looks at Willard in confusion, tilting her head to her right. “Won’t it make the bathtub messier than a faint ring?”

“Yes, I know, I know, but we let fun got in the way of common sense. That is not the craziest part though….”

The date was, June 28, 2027

We have a big box of bath bombs around the bathroom, and being silly young lads, we thought it would be interesting to see what happens if we have them dissolve all at once?

We had the water running to fill in the tub while Jack strips off his shirt and playfully shows off himself into black trunks before getting into the tub. He sinks in, taking into the warm water of the bathtub, when he looks up to me and asks: “Are you getting in, Willard? The water is nice.”

“No thanks, Jack. Someone has to be the dry party.” I laughed, watching him relax at the tub. I was wearing some grey trunks and an old t-shirt to keep me warm as we cranked the AC up. Next to Jack was a box full of colourful bath bombs, letting off a strong scent that combines flowers and citrus fruit. The scent was overwhelming but a simple wipe of my nose should help with that. Jack was just smiling widely, waiting for the time to spill in the bathtub. He was way too happy for this experiment. I turned on the camera and pressed record.

“Afternoon world, and family. I am Jack Tweedy and this is my brother, Willard Tweedy holding the camera. Say hello, Willard.”

I turned the camera to the mirror so I can see myself waving hello to it. I turn back to see Jack sitting up and holding the box already.

“We are going to do a small test on what happens if we place hundreds upon hundreds of bath bombs all at once. Before that, I should let you know that we have taken precautions and prepared our tub. Why don’t you show everyone what we did?”

“We place lots of towels and bath mats around the tub, we made sure no wires were around and no holes.  The caulk is very secure so no worries about leaks and mold. And more towels in case it got out of hand.”

“That’s right, Willard, safety is first.” Jack sits up and rattles the first box over his head. “Are you ready, Willard?”

“More than ready!”

“Last call to get in with me.”

I pondered for a bit, wondering if I should. I want to get a good shot of our first experience with this. It sounds silly to overthink this, but we are less likely to do this again. I have the camera sitting on the counter where I know it won’t fall on to the possibly wet floor and gently get inside the tub. The water became lukewarm, but it was a good temperature for me to get in. Having him in the tub certainly helps. We both counted down to the three and watch him pour all the bath bombs in the water.

It went as well as it imagined. All the bath bombs diffused, and it became a colourful bomb in the water. It was pretty to see all the colours spread out like a mosaic, hear that satisfying hiss of the balls getting smaller and smaller. It was fun to watch… for a while. Before then, we noticed that the bathtub was starting to flood the bathroom. Watching the foamy colours spill over the tub went from beautiful to surreal real quick. We anticipated the washroom floor getting wet, so we have some towels on the floor to soak up the water. But we did not intend for the water to over soak the towels to the point where it looks like the whole area is soaked. Next thing we knew, we watched the carpets getting soaked with water and rainbow foam. We grabbed all the dish rags, towels, and paper rolls available to stop it from getting all over the halls. But alas, it was moot, and we found ourselves in a soapy situation. The whole carpet was just soaked, it was squishing underneath us. But that is not the crazy part.

We go downstairs and see tiny drips going to the living room. They may be tiny but we will not risk having those little holes get any bigger so we have to grab any available container and get cleaning. We wiped them out as fast as possible while the bath drains. It took only two hours, but it felt like it took all day. Nonetheless, we had a good workout getting the place dry and a laugh about it. As for the holes, I did not want to risk getting mold in between the cracks, so we called a professional to help us out. As long as we don’t overflow the bath again, it should be fine. After a two weeks of just showers, we can finally enjoy the tub as we did as lads: relaxing side by side and drinking ciders.

“Aah, so, you can take baths again after you got your floor and ceiling all fixed?” ask Babs, mindlessly knitting away at this whole story.

Willard giggles and feels the soft wool project from his maid. “I do, just not as much. Baths became more like Melisha’s thing. I do enjoy it, it is just not just the same without Jack. We just chill, talk, have cold ones. With Melisha, it is different. Even with wine at our hands, we just sit there and talk about our day like business partners, not a couple. But hey, we worked together to get you this nice farm, right?”

Babs pause her knitting and looks over. Her LED circles yellow and taps her needles against her shins before resuming her work and the LED going back to blue. “Yes, yes, it is. Some things improved but I can’t help shake it off that things can be… different. I like my role and this farm, it's just something about it I can’t think off.”

Willard eyes the android, suspecting of her deviating. He cannot really tell since Babs’ chipper attitude and work ethic is part of her program, but the little things about something not right with them seems off. Perhaps she did deviate but it is not as abrasive as how Ginger or Bunty did. Just how many of his androids deviated? Five, twenty, forty? Maybe more than that. He rubs the bridge of his brow as he hears his wife’s berating him at the idea of them scheming.

“They’re only tools that look like people. They don’t scheme, they don’t organize or form unions. They can’t do anything! All they did is work day in and day out with little to no complaint. Get it to your head, Willard!”

Willard shakes it off and pats Babs’ shoulder, “We’ll see what we can do. If anything, just feel free to let me know. I promise that will take it to consideration and see what we can do. How about you finish the last room and go downstairs, yes?”

“Yes, Willard,” Babs have the farmer lift her hand as she stands up and picks up her cleaning tools to the last room. “You know, those little moments makes the silver lining a little brighter. Like, how the light seems shinier behind a cloud, making it easier to see than if it is just one big sun? Because you can’t look at the sun. It will damage both a human and an android’s eyes. Funny how we keep finding little things that we have in common.”

“I think it’s funny in a cute sort of way. Nothing to brash, right?” Willard hears a text from his phone and looks at it. He sighs and puts it away after a quick text. “Will you be okay doing today’s work by yourself?”

“Yes, Willard.”

“Good, I have to meet with Melisha for a side project. You take care now, okay?”

“You bet, see you later, Willard.” Babs says, waving goodbye, watching Willard going downstairs and out the door. She continues of the last room with her cleaning supplies handy and watches the water turn into a colourful soapy texture, as it reminds her of the story.

[sisuchan-400]

New Specie!

Hello Everyone! Is me Anny! And I am here today to show you all a new specie I made! The rules to make an oc of these will be at the end! Do not worry, nothing too strict!

The Kalingles

Basic info:

The Kalingles are a mysterious species, so it is hard really say how and when their species appeared, some theories say that they are spirits that were born right from the shadows, who made them, no one knows thought.

Many people try to get close to them to study the, better, ending up however, coming home terribly hurt or not even coming back home. Some researchers say that their population is not made only by pure bloods.

Living:

The Kalingles do not live in packs as many would think, but they all live in separated villages that are a lot into medieval style. The Kalingles population does not only grow when they make offsprings, but it also grows when normal humans or monsters get infected by their influence. When their influence gets the better on the human being, this one will start to be scared of other humans/monsters and will take a lot of time to build again trust between them and their families, however, if the family does not manage to keep them, they will run away into the nearest forest, searching for the first village where to integrate in.

The “influenced” Kalingles never forget their families and homes, and sometimes they have the feeling of coming back, but they also have the feeling of staying away from other humans, creating an hard situation for them.

The clothes of the Kalingles are made by their own magic and power, at one year of age, the pure Kalingles generate a wolf skull as face, as they in the first year, are literally faceless. The influenced Kalingles on the other side, generate a mask to cover their appearance, so it cannot be considered their faces, usually the influenced Kalingles cover their face until their mask get regenerated again, in case they lost them.

It is possible for two different classes to have an offspring, as the child grows and depeloves the qualities of only one class of the two parents. It is possible as well for influenced Kalingles to have an off spring with pure Kalingles

All the classes of the Kalingles:

The Kalingles were all selectionated and distincted into classes, by apparence, Powers and abilities. In all classes, all the Kalingles in their normal form, depelove ears out of their hair, meaning that they ears are covered by hair, like they are made of hair. Also in every class, the spirit form turns the wolf skull mask that the Kalingle is wearing into its face, meaning they can’t take it off until they come back into normal form

-The Night Callers:

The night callers are the most common class of the Kalingles, they are named “Night Callers” due their black colors, usually they are nice towards other Kalingles and distant to other form of lives eccept wolves and any canines. Their spirit form is the one of a wolf of the sizes of an average wolf, their fur during the transformation remains black, with only a few streaks of color of the same color of their hair in their normal form. For example is a Kalingle has brown hair, in their spirit form they will have brown streaks of color in the are around their ears and maybe neck. They are usually calm and chilled, with a enough long temper but a close heart to many, so their interaction with others may take time before something can grow.

Their limbs are usually a dark black.

The Night callers can chose if enter another class or remain Night Callers. In case they will enter another class, they will have to train to enter that class.

Their clothes have this look

(Note: their coat tails resemble their pirit form’s tail, like in all classes)

(Back of the coat -lifted-)

Their powers are:

Transformation into spirit form

Can totally blend into shadows

turn into a dark black silhouette

Acute smell

Acute hearing

(Pequliar) Can duplicate their body and create false copies of them that disappear when they get touched or the original gets attacked.

-The Terrible Shadows:

The Terrible Shadows is the most feared class from all the researchers. The Terrible Shadows are really quick Kalingles, who usually are not taller than 1,10 meters, so the researches call them also the “Dwarf Kalingles”. The Terrible Shadows are not many considering is rare find dwarf humans, so usually the Terrible Shadows are short monsters or short pure Kalingles. In their spirit form, their fur actually has the same color of the hair of their normal form, so if a Kalingle, in their normal form, has light brown hair, their fur in their spirit form will be light brown. Their fur is also way messier and their tails are way longer than the other Kalingles. They are usually isolated and prefer being left alone with others of their class, so most of their time are considered mean and aggressive towards others. Get their trust is the hardest achievement that you can think of.

Their limbs are usually a very dark green and their spirit form is as big as an adult cheeta.

Their clothes have this look, also their tail coats are the longest of all

(Back Coat -lifted-)

Their powers are:

Acute smell

Acute hearing

Can blend into Shadows

Extreme agility and speed

(pequliar) Crawl on any surface

Transformation into spirit form

-The Blue Nightmares:

The Blue Nightmares are the “mages” of the Kalingles. A Blue Nightmare is a Kalingle who is a master of magic, they are extremely able with dark magic and usually they use their spells to keep the villages hidden by the sight of other beings. The Blue Nightmares teach to their apprentices how to defend themselves and their kind, and they never mind to teach something to “inflounced” Kalingles, they will be more than honored to do that as they do not see influenced Kalingles as different.

The Blue Nightmares Enjoy quietness and peace, so usually they are not aggressive but they are very whise and calm, so they barely react aggressively to anyone. In their spirit form, the color rule is the same as the one of the Night Callers, however, their fur is more curly and their tails are slightly longer than the ones of the Night callers.

Their limbs are usually a very dark purple and their spirit form is slightly bigger than the average wolf.

Their clothes look like this

(Coat Back -lifted-)

Their powers are:

Acute hearing

Acute smell

Can blend into shadows

Full shadow powers control

Transformation into spirit form

(Pequliar) they can walk on water

-The Red Tails:

The Red Tails are really rare and there is only one per village. They are the “veterans” of the other Kalingles, and they simply keep order in the villages with the help of the Terrible Shadows. The Red Tails are extremely strong and they can destroy a car into pieces if they charge one. The Red Tails usually use their strength to protect other Kalingles from dangers of from other hostile Kalingles, also the Red Tails do not all act as the alphas of their villages, so if there would be the need to move, they will need the approval of all the Kalingles of the village, in case they will chose to stay, the Red Tails will prepare themselves to protect the village.

The Red Tails are usually neutral, and mostly apathetic, however, deep inside, researchers got to know that they are actually big sweethearts that care for everyone and do not see any Kalingle as different. When a Red Tail will have an offspring, they will isolate themselves to take care of it along with their mate, but they will not stop doing their work.

In their spirit form, the fur rule is the same one as the Terrible Shadows, however, their tails are really short, that short that they result as a fluffy bon. Their size is the one of a baby rhino.

I will post their clothes into another post due limit images.....

Their powers are:

Acute smell

Acute hearing

Turning into spirit form

Blending into shadows

Fast

(Pequliar) Extreme strength

Rules for ocs!

If you are making a breed, make the offspring of just one class, and have the powers of only that class!

Credit me when making an oc for this

You must not be undertale related, so you can make all the human ocs or pure blood ocs you want

You can turn your oc into a Kalingle

No neon pelts, if your character is a monster or has dyed hair, please tone down the colors until they are dark enough

Respect the descriptions of all the Classes, so if you want to make a Terrible Shadow, you will most likely want them to be short and rude, not tall and calm

You can give a rip to the rule and make a specific Kalingle of a specific class, with a different behavior, like a easily bothered Blue Nighmare, a more sweet Terrible Shadow. You can do it! Just, try to keep the rest of the behavior kinda similiar to the usual one of the class.

If you have any ask, just tell me!

Do not see Kalingles as an Undertale Specie, they are an actual original specie, but in this post I simply portaied it in the Undertale universe, so feel free to make Kalingles out of the Undertale fandom!

Have fun! And tag me as credit!

Tagging my friends here

@fluttersdreams

@kiukusama71

@samoanagirl101

@roxaspikachu (it is me Roxa! Anny!)

[printedpeterparker]

Just Like Him

Masterlist

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Type: One Shot

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Some Angst Some Fluff

Summary: The one where Y/N comes to term that Peter is just like her dad.

Note: For my last couple of stories, tumblr seems to ignore my tags and they don’t publish to the public tags so it makes it very difficult to spread writing so if any has a solution, please let me know! Also reblogs would help! Thank you! Bxx

The drive back to the tower was completely silent. You were crunched up in your seat, your body facing the passenger window. You looked in the rearview mirror. Smoke was still flooding the skies. Peter looked over at you. Your brows were slightly furrowed and your teeth were obviously clenched. Peter didn’t think what he did was wrong; it simply just wasn’t what you wanted.

“Y/N…” he muttered, going for your hand on the center console of the car.

You quickly snatched it around, tucking it other your arm.

Silence.

Peter retreated his hand back onto the steering wheel. You finally made it back to the tower as the sun began to set over New York. Peter pulled the car into the garage, turning it off. You quickly tried making your way out of the car to leave Peter behind.

He quickly grabbed your wrist, jerking you back, “Y/N, I cannot honestly apologize for what happened tonight, but—”

“I don’t know why we’re having this conversation then,” you hissed before snatching your wrist back to go upstairs. You made your way up the stairs with Peter not far behind you.

“Y/N, you know I just cannot ignore people possibly getting hurt,” Peter told you when you top step into the living area. He could practically feel you roll your eyes. “I’m sorry that I left you at the restaurant—”

“Again, Peter,” you snapped. “I get it; you’re Spiderman and your job is to help others, but you’re also Peter Parker, and for once I would just want Peter!”

“You’re acting like I am never with you, Y/N! Yes, I’ve left you in the past, but what if you were in that burning building?” Your muscles tightened, tears beginning to develop in your eyes. “Wouldn’t you want someone to save you?”

Your anger was boiling since you left and now, you erupted, “God, Peter, you don’t get it! Do you know how embarrassing it is to believe you just to be made a fool? I even waited for you to come back because even though I’m so pissed at you, I still care about you and that’s why you can hurt be so bad. It’s not about you being here sometimes; it’s about you breaking your promise time and time again. It’s when being a hero takes priority our relationship and you cannot tell me that it doesn’t! It’s the fact that all my life, I am playing second rate to a goddamn suit, Peter!”

You don’t play the second rate, but I cannot stand by and just watch these things happen, Y/N!”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you heard your dad loudly interrupt, quickly breezing into the room, “What’s going on between you two kiddos? Back so soon and yelling all over the tower?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you looked over at your dad and back at Peter, “Great, maybe Ironman and Spiderman can having a riveting conversation about fucking hero work since you got so much in common,” you snapped.

“Sweetheart, language.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Don’t talk to me, Peter,” whispered as you pushed past him, your heels clicking aggressively on the floor.

Peter and Tony heard your door slam leaving Peter in dismay.

“What did you do to my daughter?” Tony sternly asked, quickly catching Peter’s fleeting attention. “Did you break her heart? I gave you specific instructions not to do that.”

“No, Mr. Stark I didn’t try to, but she just…” he huffed, running his hand through his brown curls. “I think I really messed up, Mr. Stark. I’ve never seen her like that, but she doesn’t get it and—”

“What doesn't she get?”

— x —

You slammed the door and immediately dug yourself into your bed. You sniffled wiping your eyes, eyeliner staining your hand and probably your eyelids. You wanted to continue to be mad at Peter. You wanted to yell at him and rage, but you knew deep down, he couldn’t help it. He made it his job to help others. Maybe you were being selfish. Maybe you were overreacting. Were you?

“Peter, I know you said to dress up, but I it’s so expensive here,” you told Peter as you flipped through the menu, “I can’t make you spend all your money on one dinner.”

Even though today marked your one year anniversary with Peter, you didn’t expect to come here today. In reality, Peter had been saving his money for awhile just for a night. He already felt bad that he couldn’t spend a lot of quality time with you due to his Spiderman obligations. He was hoping tonight would make up for some of that.

“Y/N, it’s fine,” Peter reminded you. His hand laid on top of yours on the table, “It’s our anniversary and I’m trying to make it somewhat special.”

“Okay, but I have a hard time ordering when everything is over twenty dollars,” you chuckled, scanning the menu again. You and Peter had deferred your waitress a couple times, still looking over the broad menu and engaging in conversation.

It was nice. You and Peter rarely did night outs like this. You wanted to savor your night with Peter. You didn’t have to worry about your dad barging in or any of his friends for that matter. You didn’t have to worry about school due to the summer. And you didn’t have to worry about Peter leaving you night; he made a promise.

“Okay, I think I know what I want,” you sighed happily folding down your menu.

Peter’s brows furrowed as he sighed, “I think I do, too.”

“You don’t sound too sure, Pete. Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah of course.”

Peter looked out the window, triggering you to do the same. You saw the smoke rising in the distance. Your heart sank. You grabbed Peter’s hand, shaking it, “Hey, it’s okay. There are probably firefighters and police there already. You don’t have to go.”

“I can usually ignore it when that’s the situation,” Peter muttered. “Y/N, I don’t think it’s just a fire.”

“But your senses can be wrong, Peter. You know that.”

“I just cannot ignore people getting hurt.”

“But you can!” you almost exclaimed, catching some attention from others in the restaurant. That sounded selfish. “Someone is helping them, Peter. You don’t have to run into every dangerous situation, and you promised me that you’d stay. I’ve never asked you to stay, but I’m begging you now.”

“Y/N…”

“And you don’t have your suit.” Peter shuffled in his seat, avoiding your eye line. “It’s in the car, isn’t it?” He didn’t have to tell you that it was because you knew. It didn’t anger you that he had it; it angered you because that’s a move you saw time and time again with your dad.

He looked apologetic when he looked into your tear-brimmed eyes, “I don’t wanna do this, Y/N, but I have to,” he told you as he got up from his chair. You didn’t even look at him; you couldn’t. He kissed your cheek, but you sat motionlessly. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

He left in a haste, leaving you alone.

At a table for two.

On your anniversary.

With your heart and promise broken.

“Hi, are you ready to order or should I wait for your date to come back?” your waitress smiled, her notepad ready.

“Uh, actually, he had to step out for awhile, so I think I’m just gonna head out.”

You waited.

You waited in the parking lot of the restaurant against the car. Peter was gone for almost half an hour. In that time period, your sadness was fueled by straight anger due to broken promises.

One night.

You only wanted one night with Peter.

You saw Peter arrive around the corner, back in his original attire from the evening. His hair was a little messier, but he was beaming with joy. It only pissed you off more. He was about to enter the restaurant again before he noticed you in the parking lot, standing by the car.

He jogged over as if nothing happened in the last thirty minutes, “Hey, did you already finish eating? I didn’t think I was gone that long. If not we—”

“Take me home, Peter.”

His brows furrowed, “What? We have the whole night left.”

“Not anymore,” you snapped. “Take me home or I’ll call someone who will.”

Wiped the remaining tears from your eyes as you sat up in your bed. Forty-five minutes had passed since you stormed off from Peter and your dad. You slipped off your heels and kicked them near the wall. Your anger was slowly moving toward sadness as you watched the sun go down. You couldn’t talk to Peter; you literally told him not to talk to you. Your dad tried to stay clear of your relationship with Peter and talking about it; he always said you together made him uncomfortable. You could have talked to anyone else in the tower, but you really only wanted to talk to Peter even if all your frustrations were about him.

Nevertheless, you hadn’t eaten since lunch and it was 8:30. You changed from your skirt and top into sweatpants and a tank top. You quietly left your room, hoping not to bump into anyone. You wanted to avoid the questions about why you were home so early and where’s Peter.

You walked into the kitchen searching for something to take to your room. You looked inside the fridge, quickly making a mental note make a grocery list. You made the decision when you looked in the cabinets.

“Y/N?” Peter startled you when you heard him on the other side of the kitchen island. He was still dressed up, but he had to to-go bags.

It was a sweet sight for your tired eyes. “I didn’t hear you come in, but...I see you went back out.”

He held up the bag, placing it on the counter, “Yeah, I went to Beefy Bites.” Your stomach rumbled when he mentioned your favorite diner in New York. “I thought you’d be hungry, so I got you your favorite.”

You stepped closer to the other side of the island and looked inside the bag already ready to consume everything inside. “Bacon cheeseburger with no tomato, onion rings and their birthday cake shake?”

“And mozzarella sticks to share,” he finished, handing you your bag and shake. He really was working for this. “Can we just talk...maybe in your room?”

You nodded as Peter followed you to your room. He felt some hope since you at least accepted his peace offering, but then again, it was food. On the other hand, he was glad you were willing to talk.

“I’ve never been fond of fancy restaurants,” you mentioned as you entered your room. “I mean they’re nice and all, but I enjoy simple things, so thank you.”

Peter smiled as he joined you on your bed. He could see what you were wearing earlier tossed on the ground. In the better lightening of your room, he could see that your mascara was a bit smeared and your eyes were slightly puffy.

“I talked to Mr. Stark, your dad, and even he told me I fucked up,” he half chuckled. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I never want to make you upset.”

You were taking your food out of the bag as you hummed, “My dad knows you fucked up because what you did happened all the time when I was younger with my dad,” you began. “He loved those suits and as a kid, they were so cool. I was that kid in elementary school saying “My dad is Ironman and he’s a hero”  but then he was working a lot more and I saw my dad less. Then life became dangerous and he promised Pepper and I that he was done, but then Ultron happened...and then it never stopped after that.”

Peter was only silent, vowing to himself that he would only let you vent.

“When I turned 13, he missed my entire birthday. He got me some earrings that I wanted for weeks, but I didn’t have my dad and that sucked there,” you sighed as you took a mozzarella stick and bit into it. “I was so angry for such a long time, but as I grew up, I understood and he did better. We talked more and it was great, but science says you fall for people like remind you of your parents.”

Usually, Peter would love being compared to his mentor, but now he had mixed feelings about it.

“Like my dad, I know you love me. I know you’re incredibly smart. I know you’ll always protect me. But I also know you love being the hero even when it hurts the people that love you. I know I’m always in competition with the suit.”

“But you’re not,” Peter interrupted quickly.

“Peter, you love being Spiderman. You literally schedule out a time in your day— every day— just to be Spiderman,” you reminded him. “It’s a love I cannot compete with and that’s fine; it’s a different type of love because you love helping others, but—”

“I still broke a promise.” You nodded. “But I would still like to try and make one more promise.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a little velvet box and your eyes quickly widen, “Oh, my god, no Peter. I cannot marry you; not now at least like in a couple years.”

“It’s not a ring! Can you imagine what Mr. Stark would do if it was though?”

“Can you imagine if I said yes?

He laughed opening the box, revealing a silver necklace with a P hung on it. It was just as simple as you wanted it to be. “It’s a necklace. Do you mind?” Peter asked, gesturing to your neck. You quickly turned around, moving your hair. “When I’m not with you, I really want you to have a piece of me.” He finished clasping it on before you turned back around to meet his bright, brown eyes. “I cannot promise you that I’ll always be here—”

“Because you’re out kicking ass?” you playfully interrupted.

“Hopefully, but I will promise you that I’m always with and I’ll always protect you and love you,” he finished. “Can you forgive me?”

You sighed before taking a sip of your shake still looking into his eyes, neither of you want to turn away. Your finger gripped his chin, pulling him into a kiss. Even though the time was short, you already missed his touch.

“I’m sorry, too, Peter,” you muttered against his lips. “I was still being selfish.”

“It’s okay, but I practically hear your stomach, babe,” he laughed, pulling your burger out of the bag.

You smiled as you took it from him, opening the wrapping. You took a nice bite, always satisfied with your burgers from there. Now was no different. “Maybe we should tell my dad you proposed because I’m pregnant, tomorrow. It’d be really funny.”

Peter quickly shook his head, “I really enjoy living so I don’t think that’s a great idea. I’d would really like to see another anniversary with you,” he chuckled.

“Don’t worry; I’d protect you.”

Please send requests for blurbs and one-shots here xx and get tagged here xx

Tag List:  @captainrogerrsbeard @captainmommaoftwogirls @imaginingspiderman @goldjuggie @logan8546  @trailofgasoline  @jaredpadalacking @kaylaashley

[ashswritingplace]

Kisses Untold

This is the updated first scene of Kisses Untold, an old short story I recently reworked.

Kisses Untold

My little sister is missing.

It is seven-thirty in the morning on a Sunday, and the night owl my sister is would never be up at this hour on a weekend. I cannot shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.

Her bedroom door is wide open, and she is nowhere to be seen. Her fuchsia walls are made louder by the colorful posters lining them, and between a couple boy band posters is an art project she’d made in middle school that reads Bethany in glittering letters. Clothes are strewn about the room, a staple of any teenager’s living space, but today, things seem even messier. A couple stuffed animals have been thrown from the bed, and her laptop teeters dangerously close to the edge of her sheets, ready to fall. Bethany must have gotten up in a hurry. A bad feeling settles somewhere in my throat.

The bathroom door at the end of the hall is open, ruling out that possibility. I call her name, but if she replies, without my hearing aids, I cannot hear her.

I continue towards the kitchen, double-checking whether Bethany has sent me any texts, and no sooner do I walk into the family room am I smacked by a blur of blonde. Bethany seizes fistfuls of my shirt, and as she presses against me, I feel her trembling. She is trying to say something, I think, but I cannot hear what she mumbles into my chest. Frustrated, she looks up, eyes pale and teary. Swollen tears trail down her cheeks, and there is a terror in her expression. She speaks too quickly for me to read her lips, so finally, she grabs my hands and points them behind her.

I look past her, to my twin brother glaring at us. He is breathing heavily, rabid, and just as I am about to ask him what’s wrong, my eye catches on his hand. He firmly grasps his hunting knife, and only then do I notice the hateful look in his eyes.

Instinctively I move between my siblings. “Harrison.” The firmness of my voice pulls his attention to me. I search his expression, his anger, his disgust, trying to find some explanation. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Harrison scoffs. “Don’t play dumb with me, Hunter.” He is yelling; his rage is spelt out in his body language, even if my ears can make out none of his syllables.

Bethany cowers behind me, hands around my waist, terrified for her life. I am reminded of when she was a small child hiding from the animals at the zoo or a barking dog, not her own brother.

Harrison rolls his eyes. “You’re a disgrace,” he says, pointing his knife at me. “Both of you. I can’t believe my own family would shame my mother like this.”

He continues, but he speaks too quickly for me to keep up. I don't even know what he is accusing us of, and I am sure I do not want to find out. I have to diffuse the situation, but I don’t know where to even begin. “Harry, calm down,” I try. Then, even though it is far too early, I ask, “Have you been drinking?”

That is the wrong question. His nostrils flare, and in the next moment he lunges at me, knife bared, stopping just before my throat to get my heart pumping. “Have you?” he accuses. He pushes me aside to gain on Bethany, and he points his blade at her face. “What all have you done, then, eh? How far from God’s graces have you fallen?”

Talking to Harrison won’t get me any answers, so I turn to my sister instead. “Beth,” I say, gently pressing her shoulder until she’s facing me. “What is he on about?” I ask, though I fear I already have an idea.

Bethany glances towards Harrison before turning back to the floor. She mumbles something.

Frustrated—she knows I cannot understand her when she’s not looking at me—I raise her chin and ask again: “What is Harrison talking about?”

She blushes, and a smile accompanies it, innocent. “Sorry,” she mutters. She shifts awkwardly, then admits, “Harrison read my journal.”

She does not elaborate. Bethany’s gaze falls again to the floor. I can feel Harrison’s eyes on me, expectant and accusatory. I clear my throat. “And?”

“And he read it,” she says, attention snapped back to me. There is hurt and betrayal in her gaze, neither stronger than her fear. “You don’t read your sister’s journal. That’s such an invasion of privacy. He has no respect for me—”

“Beth,” I say, pulling her focus back.

Tears form at the corners of her eyes again, and as she goes to speak, a sob rumbles through her, stealing her voice. I pull her to me and rub her back, casting a glance at my brother to beg for this moment. To my surprise, he yields, though he is not happy about it.

When Bethany can speak again, she pulls away and wipes her nose on the sleeve of her pajama shirt. “It was private,” she insists. “I don’t even know how he found it. I don’t want to think my own brother would go snooping through my room, but…” She is too afraid to look at him, but she steals glances his way as her hands ball to fists at her side. “I wrote about us, Hunter,” she says, finally, and I cannot help the dread that washes over my face. “No,” she says, “listen. You have to understand. It wasn’t supposed to be read by anyone, so I was… I didn’t mean… But now he thinks—”

She is cut off; her eyes widen as they land on Harrison. I turn to catch the end of whatever he’d been saying.

“... is disgusting. He is your brother. You’re seventeen and he’s twenty-five. And my God, he’s your brother.” I watch the way his mouth holds his last word, and he signs it at me, a reminder, a threat.

Harrison shakes his head, hard, and his grip around his knife tightens. “I will not stand by and watch this.” I can hear the edge of his words, and I can only imagine how ear-splitting his voice is for Bethany or what our neighbors think.

I try to ignore Harrison, and I focus on Bethany instead. “What did you write?” I ask, but I don’t want to know.

“Read it for yourself!” Harrison’s voice is loud, thunderous, taunting. He hurls a book at my back, and I wince as its sharp edge makes contact with my shoulder. I pick it off the floor and look it over.

I recognize this sparkly purple cover. Mum had asked my opinion of it as a birthday gift for Bethany when she was a preteen. I had no idea she still had it, let alone wrote in it.

I look to Bethany, as if to ask permission, but she refuses to meet my eye. She does not snatch the book from me either. I glance at her as I open it, leaf through the pages, and finally, I take her silence as acceptance.

My sister’s swooping penmanship fills each page. The first entry is dated several years ago, and the following entries are scarce, one every few months. There is nothing out of the ordinary, just the rambles, doodles, and musings of any teenage girl. She writes about her friends, her teachers, her favorite artists, whatever has captured her interest for the day.

These entries spell out my sister’s thoughts, and this invasion of her privacy feels dirty and wrong. I want to give this back to her, to pretend this interaction has never happened, but my eye catches on an entry dated only a few weeks ago.

Every part of me longs to put this book down, to shield myself from whatever has incited my brother’s rage, but I can’t. I need to know what she’s written. I need to know what Harrison knows. So I read every word, struggling to understand.

Her sentences paint detailed pictures that linger in my thoughts, threats or taunts, I cannot tell. I read and reread the entire entry, and then finally, I look at my sister.

She is still looking at the floor, shifting awkwardly, fingers nervously forming half-attempts at signed language. Her face is red, and tears stream freely down her cheeks. Harrison watches me, waiting for some explanation, any reason he should not kill me where I stand. I can almost understand his rage.

I look back at the glittery book, at my sister’s penmanship, and I wonder how I let any of this happen.

[alec-writes]

Keep Knocking, Nobody’s Home

(I’m Sleepwalking)

I cannot believe I’m even uploading this but here’s something I threw together in like an hour before my class started.  Season 3 has been a TRIP, man.

For the record I highly doubt the show is going to go in this direction (besides Eclipsa using Marco somehow -- I see you, show writers), but this is what you get when I get drunk and watch How To Train Your Dragon 2 while thinking about Star.  After reading tons of season 3b theories.  I literally could NOT get this scenario out of my head and it was just gonna bug me till I wrote it out. Special thanks to @jedichic for proofreading and actually getting me to post it.

So here you go.  I am so sorry in advance.

Word Count:  1,026

Marco Diaz was about ninety percent sure this was a dream.

He couldn’t see a thing except a swirl of purples and blacks shifting across what he assumed had to be the backs of his eyelids.  The colors circled and slid into each other, like it was an entity all its own, living, breathing, interacting.  Some of the shapes even looked like people.

No, not people.  One person.  Standing right there.  Reaching out. To him?

Maybe this was more like a nightmare.

Marco was also keenly aware that everything was strangely silent in the noisiest way possible.  There were none of the usual squeaks of his bed frame whenever he was aware of his body shifting, no ceaseless yapping of the laser puppies, or anything that he might expect to hear from laying in his room.  But there was humming.  He would almost say it was constant, but the closer he listened, the more he realized that there were breaks and pauses between hums.  Not rhythmic, not purposeful, but natural.  As if someone was speaking.  But there were no voices that he could make out.  Except…

One voice.  His voice.

Weird.

“I call the darkness unto me from deepest depths of Earth and sea.”

He knew these words.

“From ancient evils unawoken, break the one who can’t be broken.”

He knew these words.

“From blackest night, I pledge my soul and crush my heart to burning coal.”

His heart was starting to pound in his chest, he could hear it in his ears, and Marco didn’t quite know why.  This was just a bad dream.  It had to be a dream.  Why would he have any reason to—

“To summon forth a deadly power, to see my hated foe devoured.”

There was a sudden change in the colors swirling before his eyes.  A flash of purple, similar to the purple of the silhouette, overtook the black for just a few seconds before everything settled.  But now, he wasn’t just seeing shapes anymore.  His vision was clearing, and once it had, he immediately wished he had stayed in whatever purple dream dimension he had been stuck in.  He felt his blood run cold and his stomach turn to ice.

Star.  Upon seeing her, the only response his dumbfounded brain could manage was to remember the last time he had talked to her.  Just a couple hours ago, during their big fight.  All the tension and uncertainty they had been living with since he had moved to Mewni had built itself into a ticking time bomb over their relationship, and it had finally exploded.  He said some things he didn’t mean.  Maybe she did too.  He didn’t know.  But just seeing her was not what caused the world to start spinning and his breath to come up short.

Star Butterfly was kneeling on the ground, crouched desperately over a figure that his mind could just barely make out as Queen Moon. There was a hole in her chest, tinged with purple, that seemed to continue growing more and more over her body.  She wasn’t moving.  Not anymore.  And the weapon, the cause of it all, was Star’s own wand, shifted into a form that Marco vaguely recognized as his, being held up and aimed by a hand that was coated with purple.  Dark magic.

His arm.  His wand.  In a moment of panic, he tried to throw the wand down but found his hand wouldn’t let go of it, so it simply hung there at his side.

He was going to be sick.

“Star,” he whispered, unable to lift his voice to a stronger pitch.

It was when Star rose her eyes to meet his that he felt his whole world start to crumble around him.  Her eyes were overflowing with tears and she wore an expression he could never hope to describe; one he had never really seen on her.  Not even when she lost Glossaryck and her book of spells.

The world was crashing in hard.  It hurt.

God, did it hurt.

“M…Marco…”

She couldn’t even get through his name without her voice cracking with tears.

It was all his fault.

What had he done?

His vision was starting to blur, and he could feel the cold, wet sensation of tears welling in his eyes.  He couldn’t even be startled when he felt two hands grip his shoulders and a voice start to speak in his ear.  He didn’t have to look to see who it was.  He knew.  Her voice was already imbedded so deep in his mind, so tightly wound around him and pulling him in a million different directions, that he just knew.

Eclipsa.

“That got a bit messier than I expected, I’ll admit…”

Marco noticed through his tears that Star had picked herself up from the ground, albeit shakily, and had transformed herself with a magnificent golden light.  She must have noticed Eclipsa.  Was Eclipsa even visibly there?  He couldn’t tell anymore.  He could only focus on Moon.  Still, lifeless Moon.

All because of him.

“No, no, no…” Marco heard himself whimpering, though he barely felt himself speaking.

Please, don’t let this be real.  This can’t be real.

“But I think it will work out for us just fine,” the voice in his ear continued to purr.  “This is only the beginning, you know.”

“I-I didn’t…”

He couldn’t find the words.  Everything was starting to go dark again, those shades of purples and blacks seeping back into his vision.  And honestly, he could only welcome them.  They were lifting him from this place, this world, this unforgiving reality in which he killed the Queen.  Hurt Star, his best friend, the person he loved – wholeheartedly loved – more than anyone else in this crumbling world.  He hurt her in a way that he could never take back.  But even she was starting to fade away with the purples and blacks.  He thought he might have heard her call out his name, but that didn’t matter anymore.

“We have a lot more to do,” Eclipsa finished.

His body finally relaxed, succumbing to the purple haze.

Everything was noisily quiet again.

And Marco Diaz felt nothing.

[aninevitablemultimuse]

@mangher​ said: ohohh!! kenma and teru!!! ✩ for the meme!! ✩

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? - Teru, just because he’s a louder person in general than Kenma is, but he doesn’t mean to yell. Who threatens to leave but never actually does? - Neither of them do this, they’d both be really, really hurt if the other did, so even in arguments it’s completely out of bounds. Who actually keeps their word and leaves? - Again, neither. Who trashes the house? - Kenma, accidentally, and only one room. He’ll go to his gaming room to calm down, but if anything is even slightly out of place, which it usually is, he’ll aggresively ‘fix it’, and that leads to a lot of knocking stuff over because he’s too stressed to actually fix things. Do either of them get physical? - N E V E R How often do they argue/disagree? - Very rarely. They’ll have playful arguments that aren’t actually arguments way more often than real arguments. Who is the first to apologise? - They’re both quick, but as far as verbal apologies go, Teru. Kenma will, however, be presenting Teru with a little ‘I’m sorry’ gift as soon as physically possible.

Sex:

Who is on top? Who is on the bottom? -These first two are the same answer so, Teru usually tops, Kenma usually bottoms, but they do switch sometimes. Who has the strangest desires? - Neither of them really have any desires I’d class as strange, but whatever they do have they’re at a fairly equal level of strangeness. Any kinks? - Well, they both have decently long lists, but as far as overlap goes, that’s also a decently long list, to pull a couple of examples, crossdressing, overstim, cockwarming, etc. Who’s dominant in bed? - He may not be typically dominant, but Teru usually takes the lead once they get going. Kenma prefers sitting back and enjoying the ride anyway, and since he can’t predict what Teru’s going to do - ever - it’s easier to let him take charge. Is head ever in the equation? - Absolutely. If so, who is better at performing it? - Teru. Hands down, Teru. Ever had sex in public? - Technically, no. But uh, streams are public and well, things happen. Who moans the most? - Surprisingly, probably Kenma. Who leaves the most marks? - It’s usually fairly equal, but if Teru’s looking particularly lovely, Kenma will cover him, so I have to say Kenma. Who screams the loudest? - Again, surprisingly, probably Kenma, but his very loud screams don’t happen very often. Who is the more experienced of the two? - Teru, but Kenma knows his stuff all the same. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? - Yes. Rough or soft? - Depends on the day but usually soft. How long do they usually last? - Per round, probably 10-20 minutes, but it really depends on what the buildup has been. Is protection used? - A lot of the time, yes, but if they don’t have any of them it won’t really stop them. Does it ever get boring? - If it ever will, it hasn’t yet. Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? - They don’t really go for strange places, but I’d imagine if Kenma has an official office not in the house for CEO Business Things, they’ve probably done it in there.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? - They have cats, and the cats count. As for children, Kenma definitely doesn’t want any, but if Teru really really did, he would probably give in. If so, how many children do your muses want/have? - They have four cats, Kenma’s setting the max of children at one. Who is the favorite parent? - Teru Who is the authoritative parent? - Teru Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? - Kenma, boy’s like yeah, screw school, be lazy if you wanna be I am and look and me. Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? - Kenma, in his care the kid can eat whatever they want to. Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? - They both do, but Kenma’s probably missed some that Teru hasn’t. Who goes to parent teacher interviews? - Teru Who changes the diapers? - They both do, but Kenma tries to avoid it as much as possible. Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? - Again, they both do, but Kenma will try to avoid it - not as much as nappy changes though. Who spends the most time with the children? - Teru Who packs their lunch boxes? - Teru Who gives their children ‘the talk’? - I love the idea of Teru making Kenma do this. Who cleans up after the kids? - Teru Who worries the most? - Teru out loud, but Kenma worries more than he’ll admit to Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? - Kenma. He loses himself when streaming sometimes.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? - Both of them Who is the little spoon? - They swap allll the time Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? - Both of them given the right incentives XD Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  - When Teru’s looking fine, Kenma. How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? - Kenma could happily cuddle forever but if it’s day cuddling, Teru gets restless after maybe 20-25 minutes. Who gives the most kisses? - Teru What is their favourite non-sexual activity? - Casual cuddles, not quite cuddling but leaning against each other regardless of what they’re doing. Where is their favourite place to cuddle? - Bed and sofas Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? - Teru How often do they get time to themselves? - They’re busy boys, you know, they get lots of time apart because of that, so more often than not when they have free time, they want to at least be in the same room.

Sleeping:

Who snores? - Kenma, but only quietly. If both do, who snores the loudest? Do they share a bed or sleep separately? - They share. If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? - CUDDLES Who talks in their sleep? - Teru What do they wear to bed? - Kenma will always have boxers and a t-shirt, he’s always cold so the shirt stays on, Teru varies, boxers, yeah, but the shirt is optional for him. Are either of your muses insomniacs? - They both have their struggles sleeping, and Kenma has such a bad sleeping schedule, but I wouldn’t say either are insomniacs. Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? - Nope, but they have some in the house just in case. Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? - C U D D L E S Who wakes up with bed hair? - Teru. Kenma’s hair somehow always looks fine, how, no one knows. Who wakes up first? - With alarms, Kenma, without them, Teru Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? - They both will if they have time. What is their favourite sleeping position? - Either on their sides facing each other or one on their back with the other half laying on them. Who hogs the sheets? - Kenma, blanket fiend. Do they set an alarm each night? - Weekdays, yeah. Can a television be found in their bedroom? - No, if they want to watch something in bed they’ll use a laptop. Who has nightmares? - Teru. Kenma does very rarely. Who has ridiculous dreams? - Also Teru. Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? - Teru. Who makes the bed? - If either of them do, it’s Teru What time is bed time? - Could be 9pm, could be 4am, nobody knows. Any routines/rituals before bed? - Teru might have to do stuff to his hair, Kenma just changes clothes and flops. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? - Kenma.

Work:

Who is the busiest? - Kenma, he has so many things going on. Who rakes in the highest income? - Kenma, rich boy. Are any of your muses unemployed? - Nope, but Kenma would be more than happy for Teru to not work. Who takes the most sick days? - Kenma gets sick more often, so him. Who is more likely to turn up late to work? - Kenma Who sucks up to their boss? - Neither of them do. What are their jobs? - Teru has his salon, Kenma has his million jobs, stock trader, gamer, CEO. Who stresses the most? - They’re not really stressed people, but probably Teru. Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? - YEP Are your muses financially stable? - Absolutely.

Home:

Who does the washing? - Teru Who takes out the trash? - They alternate Who does the ironing? - Teru - Kenma will wear creased clothes he doesn’t care. Who does the cooking? - Both will but more often Teru. Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? - Teru, not because he’s bad, but because he’s more likely to try random cooking techniques. Who is messier? - Kenma, but he’ll clean up eventually, he swears. Who leaves the toilet roll empty? - Kenma Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? - Kenma Who forgets to flush the toilet? - Kenma Who is the prankster around the house? - Teru Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? - They have a bowl. If either one does not put their keys in the bowl, they have no hope. Who mows the lawn? - Teru Who answers the telephone? - Whoever is near it Who does the vacuuming? - Teru Who does the groceries? - they tend to go together, but Kenma cannot be trusted to go alone or he will never purchase a vegetable Who takes the longest to shower? - Teru Who spends the most time in the bathroom? - Teru

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? - Nope How many cars do they own? - Two - when/if they can both drive Do they own their home or do they rent? - They rent but hope to own Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? - No Do they live in the city or in the country? - They’re sort of in a midpoint, close enough to the city to get to work, but not so close it’s loud and busy around their house. Do they enjoy their surroundings? - yep What’s their song? - Not a clue What do they do when they’re away from each other? - Work, mostly. Kenma will take a lot of time away from Teru buying him presents. Where did they first meet? - They met online How did they first meet? - Teru did some streaming and their fanbases overlapped, so they did some gaming together and really got along - then figured out they had the same circles volleyball wise and decided with so much in common they had to meet. Who spends the most money when out shopping? - Kenma, hands down Who’s more likely to flash their assets? - Kenma Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? - Neither Any mental issues? - Insecurities, anxiety, mostly on Teru’s part but Kenma has his moments. Who’s terrified of bugs? - Kenma isn’t terrified, but he doesn’t like them, he gets a bit spooked Who kills the spiders around the house? - Teru deals with them but doesn’t kill them. That is, if the cats don’t find them first Their favourite place? - Home. Who pays the bills? - Kenma Do they have any fears for their future? - Not really. There are worries about who might show up in the future (hello parents), but they know they’re solid. Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? - Teru if it’s home cooked, Kenma if it’s a meal out. Who uses up all of the hot water? - Teru Who’s the tallest? - Teru Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? - Kenma, he doesn’t care where Teru is if he wants attention. Who wanders around in their underwear? - Teru Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? - Teru What do they tease each other about? - Anything little and/or silly - Kenma getting teased for spending all his money on Teru, and being a cat, Teru getting teased for liking cute mugs and being so energetic. Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? - Kenma, but it’s playful. Do they have mutual friends? - Quite a few. Who crushed first? - Kenma realised it first, it’s hard to say for sure if he was first, but he probably was. Any alcohol or substance related problems? - Nope. Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? - Teru, but not often. Who swears the most? - Kenma. Gaming is more stressful than people might think.

[wanderingworldwarrior]

Of Twisted Emotions - Chapter One: Nothing More

The sounds of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s evacuation are loud and chaotic, but Loki Laufeyson neither cares nor notices the minor distraction. He rises from where he kneels, the tesseract's energy leaving wisps of smoke that curl and twist around his body. 

 His travels through space had been easier, much easier than he had anticipated. Almost natural, he would say, with the tesseract's power. 

 Loki's eyes casually sweep the room, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He is on Midgard, just as planned. The room he finds himself in is large, and the prince guesses that it rests deep within the earth. The cavernous area is lined with glowing technologies, equipment working hard to read and understand a power far too great for humanity.

 The tesseract. 

 It sits within the belly of a machine, and he has to force himself to look away from it. 

 There are mortals in the room, and the agents with guns creep closer with wary caution. However, there are three who watch the God of Mischief in a different manner, whose gazes cut between him and the ornate, golden weapon clasped tightly in his fist.

 The man dressed in black, the one with the eyepatch that reminds Loki too much of his family, is the first to speak. "Sir. Please, put down the spear." 

 This is not a request, but an order given in a deep, commanding tone. Loki raises an eyebrow, pausing to look down at his golden scepter with an expression of something akin to amusement. 

 It's time. 

 In less than a second, before Nick Fury has time to blink, Loki thrusts the blade of the weapon towards him. The blue gem nested in the ornate scepter flashes, and a burst of energy flies towards S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director. 

 Taking out mortals is almost too easy, especially when compared to a lifetime of facing Asgardian foes. Loki is a blur of motion, cutting through the agents as if they were paper rather than flesh and blood. Their weapons cannot break his skin – guns firing lead bullets that rapidly ping off his armor one after the other. 

 The Asgardian leaps into the air, Earth's gravity not quite heavy enough to pull him back right away, and he comes down blade first onto a soldier. The man's breath leaves his lungs in a quiet gasp as he dies, and Loki is disgusted at the weakness. 

 More guns fire from behind the prince, and he spins around impossibly fast, his hand flashing as his knives fly through the air and meet their targets. Another man attacks from the side, and Loki points his scepter towards the foe. The resulting energy sears through the agent's chest, killing him before his body hits the ground. 

 It is quiet now, save for the alarms blaring in the distance, continuing to signal the need for escape. Broken machines spark and hiss, flashing readings to no one. Loki watches those left in the room, carefully wiping blood from his scepter's golden blade. 

 The man with the eyepatch lives, as do several other of his agents. They look to their director, as if awaiting orders. Loki notes that they've been smart enough to stand down after witnessing his carnage, and he decides he'll make use of them. 

 The Asgardian takes a step forward, habitually spinning his weapon, and is surprised when a fiery-eyed agent attempts to block his path. There is hatred in this man's eyes; an all too familiar burning. No fear lives there. 

 The man goes for his pistol, but Loki is quicker. He grasps the agent's arm, studying him carefully as he struggles. "You have heart," Loki decides, nodding slowly. 

 He brings the scepter up to rest on the center of the man's chest, the sharp blade barely pushing against him. 

 The effect is instantaneous once the power takes hold. Clint Barton holsters his gun, his sharp gaze overtaken by a mass of starry darkness. And then blue clears the black, leaving irises of bright, piercing cobalt. 

 The Asgardian notes the quiver strung across the man's back. An archer. An odd choice of weapon for a Midgardian. 

 "Keep watch, won't you?" Loki asks with a smile. 

 And then it is easy, it is nothing for the prince to move on and do the same to the other nearby agents, the gem within his scepter glowing brightly. 

 It is a commotion near the side of the room that makes him turn. Someone has rushed in, and they grapple with the archer. At first Loki does not recognize the intruder. And when he does, he feels nothing but calm curiosity at the reason for her presence. 

 There is a flash of light, a staff appearing in the girl's hands as she wards off the agent. Loki twirls his scepter again, pondering over whether to send others to deal with the situation. 

 "I would suggest something with a little more electricity to it," Loki comments idly, his gaze already sliding towards another noise. 

 The director is attempting to escape, with the tesseract in tow. 

 "Please don't," Loki requests, meeting the one good eye of Nick Fury. "I still need that." 

 There's a loud zap followed by a short cry. A body falls to the floor, and Loki knows the girl has been dealt with. 

 "This doesn't have to get any messier," Fury warns. 

 Loki laughs softly, the quiet noise devoid of any humor. "Oh, but it does. Much messier." 

 "Who are you?" Fury asks, and even Loki is not sure which emotion lies within the question. 

 Is it anger? Incredulousness? There is something there, an almost exasperation, that hints at something dangerous. It makes the prince smile. "I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose." 

 Fury snorts derisively. A bold move, in Loki's opinion. But it is not the director who responds to the Asgardian's statement. 

 "Loki? Brother of Thor?" 

 Loki fights the scowl that threatens to spread across his features. Thor. It is his relation to Thor that defines him to these people. He turns to the man who spoke and recognizes that he needs this one, too. The scientist. The tip of the golden scepter presses just so against his chest. 

 Director Fury watches, his eye widening slightly at the sight of Erik Selvig's gaze being overtaken with an unnatural blackness. He makes himself speak to Loki of Asgard. "We have no quarrel with your people." 

 The statement is laughable, and so Loki's attention is again directed towards the one-eyed man. "An ant has no quarrel with a boot, nor does prey understand the motives of the hunter. Tell me, which do you think you are? Or is it that unclear?" 

 His last question is more of a statement, a flat coldness seeping from underneath his casual manner. 

 "Loki?" 

 The girl is awake. The archer has left her alive. Was it a fault of the agent, or had Loki subconsciously willed this? She could be useful, he tells himself to justify this action, to override other possible thoughts of sentiment. It is logical, after all. 

 "Healer," he greets your friend, Willow. 

 "Wait," Fury demands, a gloved hand rising to point between Loki and Willow, "you two know each other?" 

 She's staring at the prince, her eyes wide in disbelief, and Fury's words do not seem to reach her ears. "What are you doing here?" she whispers, carefully rising to her feet. She holds a hand to her side, where the archer struck her. "Where have you been?" 

 He watches her take tentative steps forward, and he turns to keep both the girl and Fury in his sight at all times. "I've been on a grand journey," Loki informs Will, a smile once more twisting across his face. "Seen sights you cannot imagine. Learned things you will never comprehend." 

 "But... but what about...." And she says it. The one thing that breaks through his armor, a single word he does not wish to hear, that he cannot hear. 

 She says it. 

 She says 

 your 

 name. 

 He fights within his mind, pushing things down as soon as they arise: a wash of memories, feelings, sentiments, attachments. His jaw clenches, his muscles drawn tight. And in the end, he wins. 

 Your friend is still watching him, waiting on an answer. But there's nothing that will make what he has done okay. He is beyond retribution, which is something he feels no need to explain. How can he? The girl has walked to him now, her accusing gaze staring up at him. 

 "You would not understand, Healer. And you shall not get in my way." 

 And he lifts his scepter, the blue gem glowing brightly. It reflects in her eyes as he brings it closer. 

 --- 

 Walking towards the city of Asgard feels surreal. It's been a few months since you last returned, and you cringe at the thought of seeing the golden palace appear in the distance. The closer you grow to the bustling city, the more your mood begins to dip. You're sliding quickly towards apathy, and those who normally keep your side begin to give you space. 

 All except Bjorn. 

 He's told you that his name means 'bear', although you think the term a misnomer. The man isn't a hulking brute like some of the other soldiers you march with. His hair is curly and dark, his skin the warm color of sandy earth. He is stoic, but pleasant to have conversation with. He had been the first to speak to you when you had first set out with the company. 

 It was nice to hear something other than whispers. 

 At the thought, words cascade through your mind, bringing with them a flash of heated anger. 

 … He left her, and right before the wedding, too.... 

 … the Prince of Wickedness and the Bloody Warrior.... 

 … why do you think he …. 

 … not worthy of a prince, anyway. Even him.... 

 … perhaps he isn't missing. Maybe she offed him.... 

 You do your best to ignore the echoes of the past. It's been over a year. No one speaks about it anymore. 

 Not where you can hear, at least. 

 "Buck up, now," Bjorn insists, nudging your shoulder. "It'll be good to see the city again." 

 "I guess," you reply, your voice holding no real emotion. 

 It makes your walking companion frown. "At least something will be going on in Asgard. I'm bored of roaming the countryside. Our last battle was ages ago." 

 "A week isn't 'ages ago'," you correct, shrugging. 

 But a year is.... 

 You beat the thought back, but it doesn't scurry away as fast as you'd like it to. A group of soldiers nearby break out into raucous laughter, and you turn your face away to hide your scowl. 

 "A dark look at something as bright as laughter," Bjorn comments, and you cut your eyes to his. 

 You sigh, a small smile lifting the corner of your mouth. "You can go join them, you know. Sounds like Tormund told a mighty funny joke." 

 "A crass joke, I'd imagine," Bjorn says, chuckling. "By now, we've heard them all. He's not good at making up any new ones." 

 You allow yourself a short laugh, and then fall into silence once more. 

 The sun is slowly disappearing over the horizon, and the captain calls for everyone to set up for the night. 

 Odin Allfather had offered you such a position, but you had declined. For months you'd set out on your own, doing the king's bidding, fighting his chosen battles. Eventually, others joined you. You did not care who you were with, although you always preferred to go alone. 

 Thor, the god of thunder, and his companions accompanied your battles at times. However, nowadays, the Warriors Three and their prince are kept too busy within the city to travel. You had thought to be alone again, but Odin had instructed you to fight alongside the Asgardian soldiers. And so you had. 

 You lie on your back, staring up into the night sky. You can hear the fire crackling, hear the conversations of your campmates. You're tired, but you cannot sleep. You're worried over what your dreams will bring you tonight. 

 "So, what are your plans, warrior? Once we reach the city?" 

 You glance over at your fellow soldier. Bjorn lays on his bedroll, his face also upturned to the starry heavens. The night is clear and cloudless. 

 "I've got a ceremony to attend," you say, looking to the sky once more. "Meeting a friend, and then we're both going. It's a wizard thing." 

 "A wizard thing?" Bjorn asks curiously. 

 You grimace. "Sorcerer thing. Whatever, you get what I mean." 

 The man laughs. "Yes, by now I do." 

 It helps to have a companion, a friendly voice to listen to. Still, you want to fall silent, to let your mind ease into unconsciousness. But you haven't shaken your apprehension. Your dreams as of late... they've been nothing more than memories, replayed before your closed eyes. You don't want them tonight. 

 They hurt too much. 

 --- 

 You wake with a choked shout, darkness flaring out as a dagger forms in your palm. You're staring frantically around the room, your eyes seeking danger. Sweating and shaking, your mind replays your dream, the blood vivid, the pain all too real. 

 And then a cool hand wraps around your wrist, easing the dagger from your grasp. 

 "You're all right, love," a voice soothes. "It's fine." 

 Only now can you truly take in your surroundings. The familiar, extravagant  room, the silky bedsheets beneath your legs. The moonlight filtering in through the emerald curtains highlights the table where you love to draw, your bag sitting in one of the chairs. 

  The cool hand pulls you back, your dagger disappearing from his pale fingers and into the shadows from whence it came. You sink down to the bed, your warm back pressed against the smooth skin of his chest.

 "A dream," you murmur sleepily, your fingers intertwining with his as he lays an arm across your waist. 

 You can feel his breath in your hair, his arm hugging you closer to him. "A dream, and nothing more," Loki whispers. 

 And then you wake. 

Masterlist

[lunamanar]

Mea Culpa

Alright...I know that this blog is typically very positive, very focused on FFVIII or FF in general or at least video games and sundry cool stuff. I don’t air grievances here, and I usually don’t opine on any heavy subjects. But, I need to make a serious post. It does touch a tiny bit on FFVIII, because it references something I said a little while ago, but this post is not about FFVIII. However, if you can stand to read it, I’d appreciate it. I promise the end point is still positive! I just need to get a little heavy for a bit. I’m not gonna hide any of this post behind a cut, either, just because I do think it’s important.

So, a couple days ago, I responded to an ask about my views on Seifer with a very long half-essay, half-editorial about the possible reasons for his behavior patterns, as displayed in the game. I knew that at least the first half of the post--which was from early last year and written while I was, uh, feeling a lot of things and probably shouldn’t have been answering questions about my FFVIII views--might be unpopular, but I thought that the opinion itself would be the problem, if anything, and if I stepped on any toes with it, I could clarify that, hey, my views have expanded since then. And I’ll never tell anyone else what they can and cannot think about a character, even if it stands in direct conflict with what I think about that same character. We all experience art and media in our own way, and I really, honestly believe that what we each get out of it is our own experience, and what good we find in that matters way, way more than whether or not our interpretation is “correct.” So while I’ll go down the rabbit hole trying to get to the bottom of what’s canon, what’s not, what differs between versions and translations and localizations...I still have my own feelings about the game, which I know are not provable, and I’m more than happy to let others have theirs, too. 

However...that, as it turns out, was not the problem with that post. People were really kind to me about my views on Seifer, actually. The most dissenting view I got was “uh I don’t think so but whatever.” And honestly, given...you know, the Internet...that’s pretty mild. 

The problem with that post, and something I’ve been thinking about ever since, wasn’t anything anyone got mad at me for. It was pointed out by a friend or two and I’ve been chewing on it trying to think about how to approach addressing it. It’s been really bothering me--as it should--considering my own history, and those of several loved ones, with mental illness. And honestly, I know better, should have known better than to couch Seifer’s violent behavior under the terms “sociopath” and “psychopathy.” While I do think my interpretation of him qualifies... ....Enngh. There’s a fine line between using the correct wording to describe a thing (which is what I’d done, in my mind) and representing that thing with your words. 

Well, maybe not such a fine line. Really, I fucking stepped in it, haha. And you know what the worst part is? Almost no one noticed, or if they did, they were either too jaded or too afraid to confront me about it. 

So, I want to take a moment, first of all, to sincerely apologize. Because...if just two of my friends tapped me to say ‘hey uh, maybe that wasn’t the best idea, man,’ the likelihood that there were other people who were made uncomfortable/injured by that post is right up there at 300% or so. And the fact no one else said anything is just further proof that...especially concerning those two scary awful terrible demon words--psychopath. sociopath.--there’s a stigma surrounding mental illness and the very discussion of it that allows bumbleducks like me to seemingly write off complicated characters like Seifer as a psychopath, signed sealed and delivered (no, I didn’t mean to write him off, but that’s not the point). Everyone else just nodded their heads, said “oh yeah that sounds right” and if they didn’t, it was either too intimidating or too exhausting to well-actually me about it. 

So, here’s some clarification that I should have explicitly provided in that original post. 

Mental illness in any form is a tangled mess. It gets messier the scarier the words being used. Most often, when you hear something like--for example--’ADHD,’ you get the mental image of someone with the attention span of a goldfish who can’t manage their vocal volume and is just generally hyper and all over the place. But...well...

I’m gonna use myself in this example. I have ADHD. And I’m not like that, at all. I’m focused, I have a pretty good long-term memory, and if anything, I am a very low-energy person. If you were to meet me face to face, I’d seem like a pretty normal introverted soul, maybe a bit more distant than average. But even something as “simple” as ADHD is not simple at all, the same “brownouts” that cause a lot of people to be hyper, loud and flighty cause me to be very quiet, highly anxious, and obsessive. Someone asked me, just about an hour ago, how I write all this content, and “think so hard” about FFVIII. Firstly, I’m far from the only one. But the answer is that--that, that’s just how my brain works. I can focus and pick over a subject for literally decades, if it means enough to me. It doesn’t mean I’m smarter, I’m simply devoting more time and effort to this than I otherwise would be. I almost have no choice. 

But, surprise, I don’t have OCD, despite the fact that “obsessive” is part of my behavior map. That’s a different set of brain things, and it’s been pretty solidly concluded that they aren’t part of my personal headsoup. Behaviors in and of themselves do not make a diagnosis; we might once have only had those to go on, but in this brand new age of fMRI and robot-facilitated chemistry testing, we have no such excuses. An absolutely huge tapestry of genetics, learning, body chemistry, past experiences, and simple dumb luck go into determining how a person behaves and what the particular cause of that behavior is. It’s not enough to say “oh, that person’s a psychopath.” That means...basically nothing. And the sad fact of the matter is, there are any number of diagnosed psychopaths who may have read that post, and as a result, pulled themselves even further into the shadows. Because they do have feelings, and they aren’t violent, or otherwise dangerous. But the moment they tell somebody they have this diagnosis, people are going to make assumptions about them, just because holy shit is that a scary terrible word. Or maybe not believe them at all. “You don’t seem like.....” People used to tilt their heads funny at me when I told them I had ADD. I eventually quit saying it, because it was annoying having to re-explain it all the time. But ADD isn’t a scary diagnosis. It’s a common one. Yeah, uh, so and so presidents/geniuses/inventors had ADD...if anything, it puts you on a pedestal with the greats, whether or not you deserve it. 

But the “scary” stuff? How would you like to be dumped into the same socially valueless pit as BTK? Or Hitler? In our society, association is everything, and while diagnoses of psychopathy or antisocial personality disorder are actually not that uncommon--especially “borderline” cases--when we hear about them, our immediate reaction to them is a fight-or-flight response. Danger. 

That’s...really not the way we should be looking at these things, though. 

To some extent the very doctors diagnosing the patients are to blame for their own demonization of these words and diagnoses, especially in the past. Media, which tends to only talk about mental illness when they find a terrifying fringe case involving it...serial killers, mass murderers, violent abusers...doesn’t really help at all. And then there’s the everyday klutzery of people like Yours Truly.

That exact kind of pigeonholing is exactly what I engaged in. Even though I was talking about Seifer as a textbook case, even though I said I didn’t mean he was a “stabbity” psychopath, what I left out of that post spoke a lot louder than what I put in. I didn’t stop to clarify that I was talking about the impact/influence of his mental state on his behavior, rather than as a direct cause to an effect. I didn’t slow down to say that I wasn’t calling all or even most people with similar illnesses violent. Hell, I didn’t even stop to call it a mental illness. I skipped straight to the “scary words,” without any preamble, any explanation, and I missed a huge opportunity to talk about mental illness in fiction, games and FFVIII in particular, and how we can collectively do better at discussing it, when we do cross that boundary between Talking About The Thing and Representing The Thing. 

I was nervous about being judged for my interpretation of Seifer, and in my haste to just get the answer out and then go hide in a hole for a week, I put forth a two-dimensional image of people living with powerful mental illnesses, and did those people--and Seifer himself--an injustice. I’m sorry for that, and I do intend to re-write the answer and correct that slight. I can’t say when I will have the energy or time to do it right...but, it will be done. In the mean time...I wanted to at least put this out there, and I hope, if you are someone who was hurt by that post, and for some reason, are still around listening to me yak, I can undo the damage.

...That’s all I got. 

[spoopercorp]

In my opinion, the majority of the Supergirl cast at SDCC was being more ignorant and insensitive rather than homophobic.

You have to be open to the possibility that maybe you’re misconstruing the situation, that what you see from the other side may not be an accurate representation of what actually happened, but yes, there is always the possibility that you are right.

Jeremy Jordan released two public apologies via Instagram that received backlash.

The first:

This one, I believe, received the most backlash for a formatting that is closer to that of a non-apology, of which I can see to an extent. It may be messy and imperfect, but he is human and can only learn from his mistakes. Many people did not like the fact that he said, “My track record for years has proven my love and utter devotion to the LGBTQ community.” because some people believe it is the equivalent of, “I have gay family/friends, I can’t be homophobic.”

But he is, I think, absolutely genuine with his intention in the apology, and the second part is more sincere, if you will.

He admitted his mistake, promised he would be better, and I personally have no doubt that he will try to do so in the future.

I said before that when you are attacked or criticized or hated, you are more likely to defend yourself. That is how humans work. If someone you knew was generally a kind and sweet person, but made a huge mistake, you are more likely to blame it on the person’s character. If it was the other way around and you made the mistake, you are more likely to blame it on external circumstances.

Mehcad Brooks’ apology is similar.

Yes, he made a comment similar to Jeremy Jordan’s “my track record” comment, and said something equivalent to “I cannot be homophobic, I am black”. And maybe he did not mean it to come out that way.

That is also another thing to address, because people who are gay can be racist/sexist and people who are black can be homophobic/sexist and people who are feminists can be homophobic/sexist. Most people know that being oppressed does not mean you cannot be the oppressor.

This is not trying to excuse what they did, but acknowledge that there are absolutely many variables within the situation at hand.

In the musical recap, they were having fun.

Okay, not a great reason, but everyone knows that when you are having fun, in the spur of each moment, you will not know if you are spouting anything out that is rude and offensive. They were not targeting the LGBT+ community, but maybe the actions they partook in are considered homophobic, but they are likely not themselves. They were being silly, having fun with each other, and laughing is scientifically proven to be contagious - it is a social thing whether or not you enjoy it, because most humans thrive off of it, and therefore, desire to be accepted. But, again, I know it does not excuse what they did.

Their intent was not to invalidate the LGBT+ community, but it did regardless, and you have every right to be upset. But think, just for a few seconds, to consider all sides. If you create something as an artist that you are so proud of and put so much time in and it is overlooked towards something you unintentionally created, you will likely feel upset. That one thing that you did not mean to do and put as much work in is being praised rather than the actual thing you are so proud of and want compliments for. Imagine that it is what the majority only talk about, it can get annoying.

Then there was the unnecessary interjection Chris Wood made about sexuality only being about perception of others. Again, ignorant and insensitive, but to his defense, he did say he was being sarcastic right after. I personally believe that was a homophobic comment. It is unfortunate for him that he is receiving a ton of hate attacking his personal life (because his character, Mon-El, is nothing like the comic counterpart and portrays someone who seems abusive), and when you shout at someone, you are likely to be shouted back at with the same force. Again, not excusing him, but more trying to develop an understanding of all sides.

To reiterate, I create art, whether it is in written or visual form, and I will likely be proud of my feat. There will be blatant haters, but when a fan articulately and professionally comments on how my work is portraying something unhealthy, it is a red flag. It is my job to at least take a second for myself to contemplate their words and the possibility without bias and acknowledge that though I did not intend to make it that way, it still had that affect.

They were also tired.

Okay, perhaps also not the greatest excuse for most.

SDCC panels are stressful for everyone, and I also believe it is very much so for celebrities attending. David Harewood makes a point that people may be “unfair” and “over the top” and blasting the situation out of proportion. My only qualm with his tweet is that he refers this outburst only originating from shippers when it is the entire LGBT+ community that has been affected. They might not be homophobic, but their actions could be read that way and will be used in the future to hurt the LGBT+ community and they are responsible for that.

They are also celebrities, they are constrained and choked in a suffocating environment that many fans burden their shoulders with.

Expectations. Ideals. Presumptions. Many unrealistic.

They are stuck within a tiny box of those specifications and the moment they resist or reach past it in any way, they receive hate. They are people, and like many other people, they may be agreeable on some matters and disagreeable on others; they have their own views. Those perfect ideas of humans people have, not just idols nor icons, are bad and unfair for both sides.

There are so many things that infuriated people at Supergirl’s SDCC.

From the announcement of The Ray and how it made Jewish coded characters like Supergirl and the Flash actual Nazis.

Which I personally loathe, so I cannot be as impartial on that matter.

To Melissa Benoist’s statements that Kara Danvers “lost her first ever boyfriend” as well as comparing it to her “losing her entire world”. She completely omitted a great black man in the first season that the latter was so head over heels with and seems to have compared a loss of a boyfriend to her losing her entire world - by extension forgetting that Kara Danvers still has Eliza, Lena, James, J’onn, Winn, and her sister Alex (I believe the Danvers sisters’ relationship is the most powerful in the show).

To the questions and panels circling around Mon-El constantly with barely any input on the Danvers sisters and the involvements of other important lead characters.

To the lack of addressing the problem with Mon-El’s character, which has been a huge controversy in numerous articles as well as plot holes with the rushed and messier writing.

To the theorizing and speculation people are making by watching videos, like the musical recap.

They are videos, you cannot really determine emotion nor intent and all they will ever be is speculation, because people are sharing statements that there is now cast drama (which I hope not) due to this incident. Katie McGrath and Odette Annable are receiving the least hate out of everyone (I am referring to cast members who were present, so I am leaving Chyler Leigh and Floriana Lima out) because (and some of these are fan speculations and may or may not be ridiculous to you)...

- Katie McGrath repeated that fans could take anything they wanted from the show and apparently Mehcad Brooks told her to “shut up” in Italian (zitta).

Honestly, the audio is not great and neither are human ears and it is just speculation. I do not know.

- Katie McGrath “dragged” the rest of the cast members by stating, “I brought it back to reality, you wanna go back to singing again?” as in referring to the musical recap in the video as well as leaning away and apparently tackling Chris Wood’s comment earlier about sexuality only being about perception and Odette Annable showing her support.

Again, speculation as I analyze with a neutral lens. Katie McGrath could be comfortable in that position. Or maybe she was actually uncomfortable with the situation. And the cast was singing shortly beforehand, it was probably not meant as shade. I do not know.

- Odette Annable did not laugh at the musical recap nor when the cast sang again about Daxam I think.

Maybe she does not find singing to be amusing? Or maybe she really thought the cast members were being rude about the musical recap. I do not know.

- There is a photo of Katie McGrath and it looks as if there are tears and people speculate it was due to her statement during the musical recap that allegedly went ignored by other cast members or something and now she is being ostracized.

More speculation, maybe she was so happy with fans she teared up, maybe the lights were too bright and her eyes were too dry. I do not know.

I do not know. No one knows for sure what is going on and hopefully everyone’s speculations above are wrong because the idea of supposed discourse and schisms within a cast of grown adults is honestly sad (someone said that cast members for a show were arguing before an interview, I do not know how reliable that information is).

If you have a problem with what happened, give your statements.

Don’t attack the actors’ and/or writers’ personal lives.

Most people will not pay attention to something that sounds aggressive or hateful. Educate them on the consequences of their actions in a professional manner, and if they shoot back with something immature or block you, then you are wasting your time and theirs. You are the consumer, you can move on and invest your emotions, money, and time on something that you consider is more worth your while.

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by Pat Henry on The Prepper Journal.

Editor’s Note: The following review was written and submitted by Prepper Journal associate Hans Brix. Images courtesy of the author.

For AR-15 lovers, we live in a golden age of price and availability. You can buy good quality, fully assembled lowers for $130, and stripped receivers in the $40 range. Given the multitude of manufacturers of $200 parts kits and $500 complete rifles AR-15s, why would anyone go to the trouble of ordering and milling an 80% lower? Because you can.

The handyman can

I am one of the first to admit that when God was handing out the Handyman gene, I was skipped. The only things I’ve been successful at working on have been firearms and guitars. I’ve assembled several AR-15 rifles from parts kits and a stripped receiver. I’ve added or polished up safeties and sears in several handguns, installed and sighted-in rifle scopes and installed aftermarket triggers and sights on Glocks and 1911 handguns. But a gunsmith I am not. In fact, I have an old “Lemon-squeezer” style revolver I took apart and can’t get it back together right. There’s a limit to my skills.

Drilling the pilot hole

I’d read about the whole 80% lower ‘market’, but never really investigated it since AR receivers are affordable and trepidation with my aforementioned lack of skills. So, when 5D Tactical asked if I’d like to review their new router jig, I thought it would be a fun and interesting project.

The jig is up!

Nevertheless, finishing an 80% AR lower couldn’t have been easier with 5D Tactical’s new AR15 Router Jig Pro. It was so straightforward, I’d say that if you can follow instructions and wind up with a receiver that doesn’t work, you didn’t actually follow the instructions.

When the package from 5D Tactical arrived, it contained the jig, several drill bits, and two specially designed end-mills for the included Rigid router and an 80% lower blank. The instruction manual straight forward and has images to demonstrate how to use the jig. 

Adjusting the bit depth

Nevertheless, I was still worried. I didn’t do well in my junior high school woodworking class and had never run a mill or router before. The closest I’d gotten was Dremel tool I used for smoothing the finger grooves of my Glock Gen 3 frame. I didn’t want to mess up the project.

The folks at 5D Tactical were able to talk me off the ledge and assure me I could do it. “Just go slow, pay attention to what you’re doing, and make sure you use sufficient WD-40 or thread cutting oil. You should be able to get 4-5 receivers completed per end-mill.”

Milling the 80% receiver blank

Armed with that knowledge, I headed to a friend’s shop; the prospect of having aluminum chips all over my garage meant doing at home wasn’t likely, even though it was way more convenient. This wound up being a good decision, because it wound up way messier than I expected.

RTFM!

After laying out the part on the bench, I read the instructions and assembled the jig around my receiver. It’s very straightforward and intuitive, especially if you’re familiar with AR receivers. Once assembled, I went to install the end mill and router base plate to the router.

Here was where I stumbled. Due to the variety of routers available, the instructions didn’t contain any information on HOW to install the endmill and baseplate, and since I’d never used a router before, I had no frame of reference from which to draw. I went to 5D’s website on my phone, since I had no computer and a sketchy LTE connection.

Milling the 80% receiver blank

Their website shows several different end mills available based on the router you have. It’s possible, therefore, to purchase the wrong mill for your router if you don’t pay attention or, like me, know what you’re doing. Since 5D had supplied both the router and endmill, that possible error was eliminated, but it’s something to pay attention to before ordering.

Thankfully, my friend had experience using routers, so he watched to make sure I was installing things correctly. In looking things over, I guessed I needed to remove the plastic router base plate then install the 5D baseplate, using the supplied screws. I almost installed the baseplate incorrectly; the cutout should face the opening in the router closest to you, as you can view the milling process in that gap. This was the biggest issue I faced during setup.

Since sitting down to write this article, I discovered a whole page of instructions, including assembly video and router endmill installation guide, at 5D’s website. I just wish I’d looked over the website sooner, as it would have saved me some grief.

Taking care of business

Once everything was put together, I clamped the jig into the vise. Using the supplied 5/32” drill bit, I took the cordless drill to it after a few drops of thread cutting oil. The drill powered through it easily, just make sure to use an oil/lube. Once that was done, it was time to mill.

Drilling the hammer & trigger pin holes

Making sure I used the shortest pins, I adjusted the depth to match the guidelines on the jig depth adjustment guides. There is a total of 21 passes you’ll need to make, from the very first cut after drilling the pilot hole, to the 21st that cuts the trigger hole.

Adjustments are in small increments (I don’t know the spacing/depth) for a reason. I didn’t have reading glasses handy, so it was difficult to see if I was lined up with the depth markings, meaning a few times I went over…maybe 1.5-2 lines instead of one line.  That doesn’t sound like a lot, but it was VERY noticeable when milling, as the bit cut more slowly and started to chatter. I was able to get through those cuts by going more slowly than I had when I made correct adjustment. After a couple of times having that happen, I made sure to err on the side of slightly less adjustment. While it might have taken longer overall by needing to make more cuts, each cutting step was much easier and eliminated all chatter when I went shallower.

After the milling was finished, I got the cordless drill and the other two drill bits and, using some cutting oil and the bushed guide holes in the jig, drilled the safety selector hole and the hammer and trigger pin holes. The drill bit for the safety selector is long enough to go through both sides, but the trigger and hammer pins needed to be drilled from each side. 

Finishing touches

After about an hour, I was finished. We blew away the excess chips, wiped off the cutting oil and admired my handiwork. Then we pulled out the parts bin and completed my lower assembly. All the internals fit great, and the holes for the safety and trigger assembly pins lined up perfectly. We then grabbed some ammo and a couple of uppers and went shooting. My new lower worked flawlessly. 

Finished & assembled receiver

My friend had several 80% lowers he wanted to finish, so I left the jig with him after I went home. He reported an issue with drilling the plunge hole. Either I had used too much pressure or..something…he said the bit I left looked warped and wouldn’t cut at all. He used one of his own bits and said it worked fine and cannot explain what happened. But on subsequent receivers, he had the same issue with his bit.

For the next two receivers he wound up NOT drilling the plunge hole, and said he got through the process fine. He told me he held router tilted back at an angle, and once the mill was up to speed, would slowly lower it to create the first cut for that depth. When he got to the third step, he made sure to be extra careful so he didn’t mess up the trigger hole. He assembled the three receivers and they worked fine.

Something borrowed, something blue

Router Jig Pro (L) and original (r)

Interestingly, he has the original 5D Tactical jig and likes new jig much better: 

The bushings for the safety selector and trigger/hammer pins in the Pro jig made drilling those holes much easier, since he didn’t have to worry as much about damaging the base blocks when drilling them.  

The larger and heavier support bases were easier to clamp and more secure.

The support for the receiver extension tube ‘ring’ is much easier to attach, is more secure, and has the vacuum attachment.

Overall, I learned a lot doing this project. Given how affordable complete receivers are, I’m not sure it makes sense from a cost-saving standpoint. But that’s not why a lot of people do this. I asked my friend why he likes doing his 80% receivers so much, when finished lowers are so affordable.

Router Jig Pro mounting blocks (R) vs Original (L)

“First, because I can, and I like building things. Also, there may come a day when AR15 rifles are harder to own,” he said. “Having a pile of these finished, or waiting to be finished, is my way of making sure they’ll be available to me. So, paying a little more for an 80% receiver that isn’t in any database is, if you will, a Freedom Tax.”

I can support that.

Lessons learned

Make sure the end-mill is in the pilot hole and has spun up completely to full speed before starting cuts. It’s less likely to jump or walk (I only did this once).

Take your time. When I tried to go faster than I probably should have, the mill would start chattering, even on ‘shallow’ cuts. You don’t have to go at a snail’s pace, but don’t try and do a complete pass in 10 seconds. 

Wear long sleeves – even though they’re aluminum chips, they’re hot when they come off the mill.

Wear a shop apron – this saved me from getting completely covered in chips.

The shop vacuum attachment mostly works – I used the vacuum attachment, and while it mitigated some of the chip flying, especially for the first few passes in guide #1, the mill still tossed ships all over the place, and there were piles of chips on the vise and bench. As the cuts deepened, a lot of chips stayed in the receiver.

Finally, I’d like to thank the folks at 5D Tactical for reaching out and supplying the equipment needed to make this work, without any preconditions. All they asked for was an honest review. 

As a courtesy, I provided them a copy of this review beforehand in order to ensure I hadn’t made any missteps during the process but was clear I wouldn’t change my opinion. I questioned the increased number of depth-adjustment hashmarks in the jig I got versus the jig in the video, and they told me they increased the number in order to make shallower passes and extend the life of the endmill, meaning more lowers per bit.

If you’ve ever had a thought about finishing 80% AR-15 receivers, let me assure you, if I can do it, anyone can. And you can’t go wrong with 5D Tactical’s AR-15 jig.

The post Reviewing the 5D Tactical AR Router Jig Pro appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

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