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[cliksteelchina]

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[apas-95]

Did you know that NASA engineers considered the failure rate of some critical shuttle parts to be about 1 in 100 (significantly greater than what NASA upper-management considered the failure rate to be, and what was considered at all acceptable by the certification process)?

Do you know that NASA engineers currently have no idea how many rocket launches the next mission in the Artemis program (in 2 years!) is meant to involve, because the mission plan relies on SpaceX being contracted to deliver a supply of cryogenic fuel to the crewed Orion (™ Lockheed-Martin) capsule in orbit - a procedure that 1: has never been attempted before on any spacecraft, let alone the Orion™ capsule, not even in uncrewed technology demonstration flights; and 2: would require an as-of-yet unknown number of SpaceX 'Starship' launches, because said vehicle does not actually exist at time of writing?

Did you know they're planning on using this 'starship' as the crewed lander? A design for a lunar ascent vehicle, that is, that does not use hypergolic fuel, that relies on a swing-out crane as the only entry and egress point? During the original moon landings, the LEM had so many redundant methods to make sure it got astronauts off the surface of the moon, that in the most absurd, extreme case, where every single mechanism fails, there's a procedure trained into the astronauts to climb around the outside of the capsule, take a pair of bolt-cutters from the equipment box, physically cut the couplings holding the capsule to the lander stage, and take off to get home. Artemis' proposed lander, on the other hand, is planned to be a vehicle whose design didn't even include heatshields until it was realised it would obviously need heatshields, which are ceramic tiles bolted after-the-fact directly through the steel hull, because SpaceX had decided to mass-produce the original-design hull sections all at once for all the 'starships' first, before doing any integrated testing.

We're seeing the exact attitude that led to the shuttle disasters not being prevented now expressing itself in (and even through) the Artemis program, a project pushed harder and faster through the gates than it should be, by a government (and NASA administration thereby) desperate to advance the eponymous Artemis Accords (that goes unsigned by China, Russia, and much of the world) and reneg on all previous space charters that onsidered ownership, commercial exploitation, and military usage of space forbidden. Something bad is going to happen, and it's going to happen for the sake of SpaceX and the military-industrial complex at large.

[artsy-hobbitses]

In truth there is no better place to be Than falling out of darkness still to see Without a premonition Could you tell me where we stand? I'd hate to lose this light Before we land And when I feel like I can feel once again Let me stay a while Soak it in a while If we can hold on we can fix what is wrong Buy a little time For this head of mine Haven for us

One of the things that I adore about Ties That Bind was the journey that Preston 'Prowl' Wan took to become a fully-fledged character, where he initially began as simply a mirror of IDW Prowl. And to honour that development, the man whose compassion is no less real for being learned rather than innate, who sees numbers and the faces behind them with the same crackshot clarity, and who believes not in gods or fate or a higher calling but in people, and in you Jazz, has earned a brand new character sheet! His old sheet can be found here And below, you'll finally find his full story!

Preston Wan Peirong remembers little of his childhood, which is perhaps for the best in some aspects; Hard to tell the truth from a lie in a memory when one doesn’t know how many times they have been ‘rewritten’.

However, what he can tell you with unnerving clarity was the coldness of it all. The sterility. The unquestionable sense of order and obedience to the system he was told kept the world from devolving into chaos after it narrowly avoided total annihilation. 

As a cold construct, Preston was a part of a batch commissioned specifically for the law enforcement division and grew up in the youth wing of China’s Public Security Academy in Beijing. Here, he was trained to become a police officer from the day he was old enough to respond when the numbers under the barcode stamped on his neck were called out: P7031 Names weren’t given; Names had to be earned. 

Every aspect of his life and that of those in his batch was strictly regimented down to the last minute; Food calculated down to the last calorie for maximum performance with minimum waste to funding. Lesson room, shooting range and dorm temperatures kept frigid to ‘sharpen the mind’. The text which met his gaze, the lessons which rang in his ears, the words that came out of his mouth when he was permitted to speak.

He learned early on what his purpose was in the world, and had it drilled into him how integral purpose was to keeping the system running; Everyone had a purpose, everything had its place, and as long as the people understood both, order would be maintained, and order had to be maintained to keep the peace for the good of the many. Sometimes, yes, that meant oiling the gears. Other times, it was hammering down stray nails.

That purpose drove him, and by seven, indoctrinated him so thoroughly that he didn’t question the stinging in his knees when he was ordered to kneel on rice grains during his lesson drills, or his own hunger when ordered to go without meals until he’d learned to disassemble and reassemble his weapon at a speed which put officer cadets to shame. 

At eight however, the sterile and orderly world he knew within the academy walls began to crack; Sitting on the top of his batch, it was decided by the academy trainers that he needed more one-on-one tutelage after class hours. It was decided that he needed a handler. 

Tan Yumei was a former soldier; a renown crackshot with steel in her eyes and in her bones from years in service to the state; The kind that made her sit up straighter when the offer was made for her to become a glorified babysitter—in her words—to what had to be the world’s best behaved boy. 

Asset, the interviewer would correct her. Not a boy; an asset. Our asset. 

The promise of a job in the academy which would come with pay and medical benefits which far eclipsed her government pension was too tantalizing to pass up, and she took on the child known as P7031 under her wing. 

She was to train him in field work and help with his assimilation into society; the silo of the academy gave him the skills necessary, but could only do so much to help him function as part of the system. 

As often as she was told to treat him as an asset, a tool rather than a child, that proved easier said than done as Yumei found herself warming up to all four-foot-six of stoic, stony-faced, serious-as-a-heart attack P7031. 

It started small and innocuous; ice cream as a treat for a job well done, something completely novel to the child. No sense using the stick exclusively when the carrot was there as long as results were achieved, she would assure the staff.

This hid her growing disturbance with the way P7031 was raised, more so as he began to light up when when she greeted him every morning, began to smile as she praised him for things that weren’t tied to the purpose given to him by the academy, began to question the world around him in ways he had never been given the chance to do before with the kind of childish wonderment that dissipated into thin air when it came time to return to the academy. 

And P7031 began to feel his worldview shift as well, as she was the first person to treat him like the child that he was, whether it be reading with him young adult novels not approved by the academy board or snapping the very first pictures of himself he was allowed to keep (a gift to remind him that he existed beyond the academy walls). Attachments were an alien concept to him; he understood that his purpose meant connections beyond duty—whether it be family or friends, neither of which he had prior to Yumei— were wasteful, unnecessary, dangerous. But for the first time in his nine years of living, he wanted for something more than purpose. He wanted a life with his handler, his mother, as the card he presented to her on a second Sunday in May proclaimed with words easier written than spoken.

And as the time grew near for her handler contract with the academy to end, it was a sentiment Yumei echoed. 

When he was ten years old, she came for him after hours; silent, stealthy and wreathed in shadow, promising him a life away from the academy, from a purpose he never asked for. 

And at ten years old, time froze for him. 

P7031 didn’t remember anything of that night; The escape to the docks. The lullaby hummed to keep him calm. The struggle and the thunderclap that spattered his coat in blood that wasn’t his, and the wretched, barely human sound that tore from his throat. 

He didn’t remember being dragged back to the academy beaten within an inch of his life screaming blue murder. 

Didn’t remember the golden eyes crinkled at the edges with amusement as he begged for them to stop, because he knew Uncle Gold-Eyes, the one they called Trepan, to be a doctor who dealt with ‘defective’ assets; something he had once prided himself in never being. He didn’t care that he was defective; they had already taken the only person worth anything in his life away from him physically, and they were prepared to take what remained of her in his mind to ‘fix’ him. 

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and what he did remember, after all this, is simply his dorm room, Spartan as ever. 

Life went on, with only whispers of the unexplained cancellation of the handler initiative, which he’d never heard of, as a ripple in the monotony of his classes, shooting range practice and on-field assignments.

At eighteen, he graduated from the academy and finally earned the right to a name, and P7031 became Officer Wan Peirong, assigned to the Chengdu Security Bureau where he became one of its rising stars. 

His professionalism, loyalty and sense of duty were unmatched, even among his batch, and he unquestioningly served the system that kept the nation running. Criminals had no place in the system, but as he was told by his superiors, neither did dissidents who threatened order and had to be re-educated, taught the error of their ways to become productive citizens the same way he had been molded into a model worker in the academy. 

In this period, blips in his memories became more frequent, though his attending physician dismissed his concerns as it didn’t impact his work. Work which he began to question one day when his task entailed breaking up a miners’ protest downtown. As he led one activist away, an elderly woman kowtowed at his feet, begging for him to show mercy to her son, and something in her voice made him loosen his grip with the beginnings of doubt.

Miners were not an outlying group; they were a sizable section of the populace, and they weren’t the only group voicing their grievances. He was tasked with helping keep the peace; something he was told repeatedly that the many desired over the few who bucked against the order. But who was he serving when those who bucked against the order he was told should not be challenged became the many? 

It was a question Peirong struggled with as the days went by and dissent grew louder among the working class, which authorities were ordered to respond to with mounting force even for the pettiest infractions.

He began to seek out banned texts, including translated copies of ‘Towards Peace’, supposedly penned by a Cold Construct just like him from the west, to gain clarity on the situation; He reasoned that ne had to study all angles before making a move after all, and the more he read, the more shaky his faith grew in an institution which was far from the paragon he had been promised in the academy. 

He wasn’t a fool however; he knew how the system worked inside and out, and began searching for loopholes to secretly help out people he believed were being failed by the system, as well as utilising malicious compliance to cover his tracks in a real-time game of chess with his superiors.

It all came to a boiling point one day, as he was assigned to a squad escorting a group of political prisoners to a new facility. 

Among them was someone Peirong recognised as one Brandon Shen Bailin; a charismatic and  defiant radio deejay-reporter from Hong Kong who recently came out as a Cold Construct and was nicknamed the ‘Blaster’ for the exposes he penned about the government. 

Brandon had gone missing weeks ago on assignment in Xinjiang; no amount of bandages and no large a hoodie could hide the toll that time had taken on the man, who was now emaciated and missing all of his fingers.

Before Peirong could fully process what he was seeing, the reporter was separated from the rest of prisoners and forced to kneel, as a gun was placed in Peirong’s hands by the Second-Level Inspector and he was told to dispose of this enemy of the state.

What was unspoken but clearly understood between both of them, as Peirong could deduce from the officers closing in on him, was that this was a test of loyalty as his wavering faith in the system was becoming clear to the bureau’s cabal. 

The choice was made in a split second; he refused his commanding superior’s orders, shot the man square between the eyes before they could draw their weapon and then kneecaped the rest of the officers before the dust settled.

Hauling Brandon into the shotgun seat of the prisoner transport truck and driving off, he helped the reporter liaise with a contact that directed them to a rendezvous point at the nearby contested China-Arunachal Pradesh border to fight extradition orders. 

With authorities not far behind, Peirong pressed on and covered for them as they raced towards the border, following in Brandon’s lead. He had spoken with them throughout the journey; stilted and monotonous as ever on his end as he struggled to connect with them, but two things were clear, as they made that run for freedom:

The first was that the system was untenable if it would deem parents, poets, artists and blue collar workers–the many, the unarmed—as enemies of the state.  The second, was that while they ran for their lives, he wasn’t sure whether he’d ever truly lived at all. 

This was a sentiment that Peiriong echoed, after he was overpowered by men in the same uniform he wore, to the constable pressing the nozzle of a gun to his forehead; That they were free to take his life, a life where the only moment he’d felt even barely alive was he had defied an order for the first time. 

The argument that occurred next between two commanding officers who debated his fate was a surprise, though not so much as the revelation that this wasn’t the ‘first time’ he had broken protocol, and that he had apparently broken protocol one too many times that they were now weighing his use against the cost needed for his ‘upkeep’. 

In a day of firsts, it was also the first time Peirong had allowed his emotions to overwhelm him, as his increasingly frantic demands to know what they did to him before this—suddenly the blips in his memories made sense—was met with a pistol whip to the temple, and booming sound which made him believe for a fraction of a second that the gunman had kept true to the threat to kill him. 

Except he still breathed, and despite the ringing in his ears, he dazedly managed to push himself up to see the officers scattered and stunned while a new man stood in their midst; armored, backlit against the sun, and smiling.

The words were muffled, but he could read the man’s lips clearly; “Focus on me.” 

It was the singular thread of clarity he needed to finally accept the hand outstretched to him as both of them made a run for the waiting aircraft that would, for better or worse, take him away from his purpose, from the only life he knew. 

The man, who introduced himself as Jace Zayden codenamed Jazz, was a friend of Brandon who had refused to leave without the lone cop who had risked everything to help them.

And where Peirong had feared losing his purpose, his reason for existing with the single step he took beyond China’s borders, he found that he had instead traded it in for another the moment Jace invited him to team leader Omar ‘Orion Pax’ Parvez’s table to discuss strategy; something this new team desperately needed. 

He chose a new name, Preston, to mark his departure from his old life, and focused on his new purpose as framed by the man who saw worth in his life when those he’d once pledged it to did not: Peace through compassion, even if learned, over oppression. 

And between understanding what it meant to live as a man rather than a government asset, and forging connections beyond what duty once dictated for him, maybe, just maybe he could one day piece together the scattered fragments of his past. 

[luimagines]

Wild Card! Pick something on the need to write list ideas you might have!

You know what? I'm writing Part Two of Dragon! King! Time and no one can stop me. >:D

I'm writing this for me!!!

Masterlist

Part one

Content under the cut!

"Where are they?" A deep growl shakes the entirely of the castle. "WHERE ARE THEY?!"

"Your Majesty, please calm down before you destroy the castle." Warrior bite his lips, not at all excited for the conversation he is about to have.

"They are supposed to come every two weeks." The kings growls incessantly. "If I had marked them by now, I would at least have a hint at what happened to them. Are you sure they haven't showed up at the apartment?"

"Positive, sir." Warrior begins to feel a little sick to his stomach, and it's not because of the residue magic that's being leaked into the air by the Ancient King himself. "All the gifts you've had me drop off are... untouched."

"It's been over a month! Almost two! And not a single note or announcement-!"

"They're not home." Warrior stresses. "They-"

The king catches the slip up. His dietic magic flares through the atmosphere, setting all dragons in a 300 miles radius on edge. "Captain, are you aware of their whereabouts?"

"...Your Majesty, I beseech you to sit down first." Warrior growls, feeling his own magic begin to rise to the surface. Little puff of flame escape his mouth despite his best efforts. He knows he would never win in a fire against the King. He is the king for a reason. But that doesn't mean he's still not capable of dealing a lot of collateral damage in the process.

King Link of Kokiri Kingdom growls up a storm, cracking the windows of the throne room before begrudgingly sitting on his throne. "Proceed." 'With caution', need not be mentioned. "Where are they?"

Warrior steels his nerve, setting his palms on fire to lessen the magic build up in his body. "The hospital."

The glass windows explode from the magical flare. All objects lift off of the floor by three feet, Warrior included. And the King has shifted into his full dragon form, taking up the majority of the space in the room due to his massive size and power.

Warrior is dropped non to gently and wastes no time shifting to his full dragon form as well, breathing the hottest wall of fire he can to get the King's attention off of raging towards the nearest hospital. He chars the floor and tapestries on the process, but this is more important.

"You can't go!"

"watch me."

"You aren't supposed to reveal her identify to the public!" Warrior reminds him. "She works undercover for a start and we knew this work could potentially injure them."

"which hospital, captain?" The King hardly looks at him and very seriously begin to gauge which wall the castle needs the least. "i'm going to claim what's mine and never let anything else threaten them."

Warrior curses the instinctual possessiveness of dragons. It never seems to end well once a human gets involved. "You cannot barge in there like a raging bull in a china shop! You'll destroy any trust they have in you. They've just started getting comfortable in your presence."

That seems to calm down the king somewhat. Time growls but manages to contain his magic at once. "....i'd frighten them."

"Exactly." Warrior doesn't allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief just yet. But this is progress.

A very long and pregnant pause settles over the throne room. In a flash of light, the King returns to his half form, growling up a storm and not at all aware of the damage to the castle. "Blast it all!"

Warrior shifts to his human form and brushes off his uniform. He's aware that the people of the castle have been talking about the King's upsets. It wasn't so bad when you had missed the first visit. He was marginally upset, but understanding, expecting a message at some point to explain why you hadn't shown up. Two weeks later, with no correspondence, you missed the second one and King Time had all but sent out a search party for you.

By the third, he was about to go mad with drive to find you.

The kingdom has never seen their cool and collected leader in such a state. Many believe that you (despite not knowing much about you as a whole) have bewitched the King and had one of the most beings in the world in the palm of your hand.

Which... isn't entirely wrong, Warrior admits. But what they didn't know is that you would rather have anything else and are constantly rejecting the King's attempts to court you discreetly.

It hasn't stopped the King, mind you, hence the gifts, but Warrior has never seen a man more head over heels for the most oblivious person.

The King has yet to stop growling but he has calmed himself down to once again look at Warrior in the eye. "...What's their condition? How long have they been there?"

Warrior sighs. That's confidential information. But... he wouldn't have the position he has if he wasn't the best at his job. "They were checked into the emergency room two days after your last meeting with them. Emergency surgery was instantly approved and they have been in the hospital for the past month. I... believe that they should have been approved to return home about a three days ago, should my calculations be correct."

Magic flares up once more as the king's rage turns against Warrior. It is a frightening sight.

"YOU KNEW!?"

Warrior holds a hand up, ignoring how everything fiber in his being is raised by the shackles. "Because I knew that you would want to smother them all the same once I continue this report. If you would allow me to do so."

Magic continues to pulse through the air but the King hasn't returned to his full dragon form, so Warrior has hope. However, the King's growls shake Warrior to his core despite his grade A acting skills. "Proceed."

Warrior gulps. "They... were critically wounded, presumably on the job. I kept this information to this day to buy them time to both return home and heal."

"what wounded them?"

Warrior hesitates.

"captain link."

"Bullets, sir. They had three bullet wounds."

A ferocious roar shakes the shattered windows from their frames, raining the glass to the cracked floor below.

"WHO?!"

"I don't know..." Warrior admits softly. "We'll have to ask them when they return..."

Because you will return, right? To them? To King Link?

You were so full of life and spunk. There was no way that this would have kept you down for long. You were critical, yes, but even Warrior managed to garner that you would have a miraculous recovery. Warrior is willing to bet it was due to the King's residue magic of his claim. It is quite potent.

Time manages to make his way back to his throne and all but collapses into it. His hands are shaking. "....For all that is good and holy...."

Warrior finally swallows the thick cotton in his mouth. It's difficult. "Your majesty... We must allow them to come back on their own terms. I'm sure they will explain everything."

Time shakes his head. "I've... never felt strongly over another before. All those employed under my kingdom and certainly under my castle are mine... but they... I want them here. I want them safe. I want them to... I just want them near me. I want to mark them. It's getting harder and harder to keep myself in check."

"I can see that, sir." Warrior jokes flatly. Now is not the time. "We all can see that. With the exception of them."

"And they don't even accept the help I'm offering to their face!" Time laments. "The last time was infuriating! You heard it! Some upstairs neighbor- Some secret admirer! It's been me! But I can't say anything and I'm forced to keep my affections to myself."

Warrior bites his tongue and lets the King take the needed breather after nearly destroying the castle from the inside out.

"Tell me honestly, Link, how helpless am I?"

"Yes."

A beat passes and Time sighs, giving his long time friend a small smile. "Where I would be without you, Captain?"

"Destroying the one shot you have to genuine romance, your majesty." Warrior smiles gently in return.

Time bite his lip, discreetly pinching the bridge of his nose to wipe the tears. "Do you think they'll keep the schedule? If nothing had happened they would be due to visit in the next three days."

"I'm not sure, your majesty." Warrior says kindly. "But we can always hope and try to look after them from afar."

Those three days couldn't have passed fast enough.

King Time paced through the throne room with his tail lashing out wildly, unable to calm himself down enough to take a sit and be patient about this.

Warrior feared he would forget how to be gentle if the moment came to it. There was still work to be done, and reconstruction hadn't finished on the throne room when the appointment arrived but the workers were shooed away for the time being as the King waited.

Just when the King was about to give up and call it day to scheme his new plan to care for you, the clock struck the late hour.

And you came.

Part 3

[sifu-kisu]

Parts of a Chinese Sword: The Jian and Dao Anatomy

Chinese swords are very beautiful and dangerous weapons that have played an important role in Chinese history and culture for thousands of years. Their intricate design and construction are a testament to centuries of Chinese swordmaking tradition.

One must be familiar with the complex workings of Chinese swords to fully appreciate their lethality and beauty and use them more effectively in Wushu or Kung Fu Chinese martial arts. In this article, we’ll introduce you to the various components of the Dao or Jian, the traditional Chinese swords, and their use.

Parts of the Jian / Straigh Double Edge

The Parts of a Jian Sword – Credits: Mandarin Mansion Antiques

The Jian is a type of ancient Chinese straight, double-edged sword that has been valued for over a thousand years. Its blade is long and narrow, while the handle is straight and slim. Soldiers, martial artists, and academics employed the sword in ancient China and surrounding regions. Together with the staff, spear, and Dao swords, it is one of the four key weapons in Chinese martial arts.

1. Jiantan – Pommel

The Chinese word for the pommel of a Jian sword is Jiantan, and it is there that the sword begins. It’s a metal weight at the end of the handle, and its purpose is to balance the blade so the user can have a firm hold. First only available in ring pommels, Jian pommels eventually evolved into more complex designs like the metal cap, ball, or teardrop shapes and the common disk pommel known today.

2. Jian Sui – Tassel

A Jian sword’s tassel is a decorative accessory that can be fastened to the pommel or scabbard. The Chinese sword tassel is often constructed from silk. This sheath beautifies the Jian and adds a few features that may or may not improve the sword’s effectiveness in battle.

3. Jianba – Handle

The different possible edge features on the Jian sword – Credits: Sword Buyers Guide

The Jianba is the sword’s handle, and it is always straight and slim, measuring somewhere between 6 and 10 inches (15 and 25 cm) in length. For ceremonial and combat purposes, it may be crafted from various materials, including bone, wood, horn, and even jade. The majority of Jianbas have a shorter handle designed for use with one hand, although there are also longer versions used with both.

4. Jian Ge – Guard

Traditional Jian sword guards are thin, tapered pieces of metal that can be angled in either direction relative to the blade and handle. In some cases, it can be round or square that goes between the blade and the handle. Its purpose is to shield the user’s hand from the oncoming blade and to stop the enemy’s weapon from sliding down the blade onto the hand. In some cases, it only serves as a beautiful ornamental piece.

5. Shaungxue – Hamon

A hamon is the visible line on the Jian sword that is sometimes on the blade but not always. It is a result of the differential hardening used throughout history to make the edges of the blade sharper by using clay. It is a feature most known today on the Japanese Katana.

6. Jianti – Blade

The blade of a Jian sword is narrow and long, normally measuring 23 to 31 inches (60 to 80 cm) but reaching as high as 47 inches (1.2 meters), and always tapers into a sharp blade tip. It is the only straight Chinese sword, one of just a few in the arsenal of Chinese swords, with no curving variant. The blade is forged from bronze, then iron, and finally, high-quality steel, and it is optimized for speed and accuracy when cutting.

7. Jian Ren – Edge

The straight Jian scabbard –

The sharp edges on both sides of the Jian’s blade are called Jian Ren. This Jian Ren has three sections and parts, mostly seen in the combat or martial arts type of Jian sword.

Top – razor sharp and used primarily for hacking, slashing, thrusting, but not blocking

Middle – semi-sharpened part of the blade but much thicker, which is used for slashing and blocking

Bottom – very thick, sturdy, and usually unsharpened for defensive or unorthodox offensive movements

8. Jian Jian – Blade Tip

The very point of the Jian sword is called Jian Jian. It is sharpened on both sides and made to be deadly when used for thrusting and piercing, but it can also be used for slashing.

9. Jianqiao – Scabbard

When not in use, a Jian sword is stored safely in its scabbard, called the Jianqiao. It’s usually crafted from wood and covered in luxurious materials like silk or leather. Metal fittings and tassels are two examples of possible embellishments for the scabbard.

Parts of the Dao Sword (Knife/ Saber)

The Parts of a Dao Sword – Credits: Mandarin Mansion Antiques

The Dao sword, often called the Chinese broadsword, is a renowned blade that has served Chinese warriors for millennia. Its defining feature is a single-edged blade, which can be straight or slightly curved and may be gripped in one or both hands thanks to the long, slim grip. The Dao sword has a long history of use in numerous Chinese martial arts traditions, but it was primarily a sword of the soldier thanks to its ease of use and simpler design.

1. Daoba Dingshu – Pommel

Usually, the Dao sword has a smaller metal cap of a pommel which can be ring type, as seen in the 20th-century use of the Dadao. However, the most common type is a round or wider disc shape. It serves as a back support to the user’s hand as well as a possible blunt attack tool.

2. Lanyard and Tassel

Like the Jian has the traditional Chinese tassel, so does the Dao. But most of the time, the Dao swords have a lanyard, which is meant to have a better grip on the sword and make this curved blade more effective in mounted attacks.

3. Daoba – Handle

The handle of the Dao, which can be as small as a person’s hand or the size of the blade itself, is called the Daoba. Its most common length is 8 to 13 inches (20 to 35 cm), and it can be used with one or two hands for powerful slashing attacks.

4. Daoba Shu – Ferrule

The small metal piece just under and between the guard and the handle is called the Daoba Shu. These are often circular metal rings made for extra joining and fastening of the handle and sealing and reinforcing the wrapping material.

5. Dao Hushou – Guard

The metal piece that protects the user’s hand between the blade and the handle is the Dao Hushou. The most common type of guard seen on a Dao sword is round or disc-shaped. It offers protection to the user’s hand but is fairly limited. It makes for an excellent marching or cavalry type of guard. However, It is also featured in the parts of a Katana known as tsuba.

6. Dao Cao – Groove

The early types of Dao Ren on the straight Dao swords, which curved with time – Credits: The Scholar General

The Dao Cao translates to saber groove and can be found in almost all types of Chinese Dao. They are sometimes referred to as blood grooves, but their real purpose is to lessen the weight of the blade so that it can increase the saber’s handling and speed. In addition, they make eye-pleasing aesthetics.

7. Dao Ren – Blade (Edge)

The sharpened side of the Dao swords, which makes them single-edged, is called the Dao Ren, which sets it apart from the Jian. This edge makes for an effective slashing tool that benefited from the curve added onto the later Dao types of swords. Thanks to the Dao Ren, these blades were easier to master and cheaper to produce, but still very effective in combat and became the main type of military sword for Chinese soldiers.

8. Dao Bei – Spine

The sturdy part of the Dao sword, which can hold off the flexibility of the edge, is called Dao Bei. This isn’t a sharpened part and can be either straight or curved based on the type of sword and can be used for defensive purposes too. Sometimes the blade can be made broader and wider, and there are instances of a spike on some Dao Beis.

9. Blade Rings

There are some cases of Chinese swords with rings placed on the Dao Bei or the blade’s spine. They are mostly for entertainment and ornamental reasons, but some say they are also beneficial in combat.

10. Tunkou – Blade Collar

An unsharpened piece of metal, usually on top of the guard of Dao swords, is called a Tunkou, which is a blade collar. This is placed for decorative purposes, mostly with traditional Chinese elements, but it also holds the blade tightly inside the scabbard, keeping it safe from the elements. 

11. Dao Feng – Blade Tip

The very end of the blade is called the Dao Feng, the blade’s sharpened tip. There are cases where only one side is sharpened, but on some Dao swords, the tip is double-edged, making it ideal for both slashing and thrusting.

12. Daoqiao – Scabbard

The P-shape curved scabbard of the Dao sword – Credits: Mandarin Mansion Antiques

The Daoqiao, or the scabbard for the Dao blade, has the same features and materials as the Jian, except that it is curved.  It protects the blade from outside elements and is a nice resting piece for carrying the Dao around.

13. Dao Shu Liang – Scabbard Suspension

The Dao Shu Liang is how the scabbard is different from the Jian. This tradition came from Persian influence on the west during the Tang Dynasty and is basically two ropes swinging from the blade that hold the swords in a horizontal fashion

[theoutcastrogue]

Cold Iron in folklore, fiction, and RPGs

'Gold is for the mistress—silver for the maid! Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.' 'Good!' said the Baron, sitting in his hall, 'But Iron—Cold Iron—is master of them all!' — Rudyard Kipling, “Cold Iron”

Folklore

Drudenmesser, or "witch-knife", an apotropaic folding knife from Germany

The notion that iron (or steel) can ward against evil spirits, witches, fairies, etc is very widespread in folklore. You hang a horseshoe over your threshold to deny entry to evil spirits, you carry an iron tool with you to make sure devils won't assault you, you place a small knife under the baby's crib to ward it from witches, and so on. Iron is apotropaic in many many cultures.

In English, we often come across passages that refer to apotropaic cold iron (or cold steel). "All uncouth, unknown Wights are terrifyed by nothing earthly so much as by cold Iron", says Robert Kirk in 1691, which I believe is the earliest example. "Evil spirits cannot bear the touch of cold steel. Iron, or preferably steel, in any form is a protection", says John Gregorson Campbell in 1901.

Words

So what is cold iron? In this context, it’s just iron. The “cold” part is poetic, especially – but not only – if we’re talking about either blades (or swords, weapons, the force of arms) or manacles and the like. It just sounds more ominous. There are “cold yron chaines” in The Fairie Queene (1596), and a 1638 book of travels tells us that a Georgian general (in the Caucasus) vowed “to make the Turk to eat cold iron”.

Green’s Dictionary of Slang defines “cold iron” as a sword, and dates the term to 1698. From 1725 it appears in Cant dictionaries (could this sense be thieves’ cant, originally? why not, plenty of words and expressions started as underworld slang and then entered the mainstream), and from ~1750 its use becomes much more common.

NGram Viewer diagram for 1600-2019.

In other contexts, cold iron is (surprise!) iron that’s not hot. So let’s talk a bit about metallurgy.

Metals

In nature, we can find only one kind of iron that’s pure enough to work with: meteoritic iron. It has to literally fall from the sky. Barring that very rare occurrence, people have to mine the earth for iron ore, which is not workable as is. To separate the iron from the ore we have to smelt it, and for that we need heat, in the form of hot charcoals. Throwing the ore on the coals won’t do much of anything, it’s not hot enough. But if we enclose the coals in a little tower built of clay, leaving holes for air flow, the temperature rises enough to smelt the ore. That’s called a bloomery.

clay bloomery / medieval bloomery / beating the bloom to get rid of the slag

What comes out of the bloomery is a bloom: a porous, malleable mass of iron (that we need) and slag (byproducts that we don’t need). But now we can get rid of the slag and turn the porous mass to something solid, by hammering the hot bloom over and over. And once the slag is off, by the same process we can give it a desired shape in the forge, reheating it as needed. This is called “working” the iron, hence “wrought iron” objects, i.e. forged.

a blacksmith in his forge, with bellows, fire, and anvil (English woodcut, 1603)

This is the lowest-tech version, possibly going back to ~2000 BCE in Nigeria. If we add bellows, the improved air flow will raise the temperature. So smelting happens faster and more efficiently in the bloomery, and so does heating the iron in the forge, making it easier to work with. And that’s the standard process from the Iron Age all through the middle ages and beyond (although in China they may have skipped this stage and gone straight to the next one).

If we make the bloomery bigger and bigger, with stronger and stronger bellows, we end up with a blast furnace, a construction so efficient that the temperature outright melts the iron, and it’s liquified enough to be poured into a mould and acquire the desired shape when it cools off. This is “cast iron”.

a blast furnace

So in all of this, what’s cold iron? Well, it’s iron that went though the heat and cooled off. (No heat = no iron, all you got is ore.) If it came out of a bloomery, or if it wasn’t cast, it’s by definition worked, hammered, beaten, wrought, and that happened while it was still hot.

Is there such a thing as “cold-wrought” iron? No. In fact, “working cold iron” was a simile for something foolish or pointless. A smith who beats cold iron instead of putting it in the fire shows folly, says a 1694 book on religion, so you too should choose your best tools, piety and good decorum, to educate your children and servants, instead of beating them. When Don Quixote (1605) declares he’ll go knight-erranting again, Sancho Panza tries to dissuade him, but it’s like “preaching in the desert and hammering on cold iron” (a direct translation of martillar en hierro frío).

Minor work can be done on cold iron. A 1710 dictionary of technical terms tells us that a rivetting-hammer is “chiefly used for rivetting or setting straight cold iron, or for crooking of small work; but ’tis seldom used at the forge”. Fully fashioning an object out of cold iron is not a real process – though a 1659 History of the World would claim that in Arabia it’s so hot that “smiths work nails and horseshoes out of cold iron, softened only by the vigorous heat of the sun, and the hard hammering of hands on the anvil”. [I declare myself unqualified to judge the veracity of this statement, let's just say I have doubts.] And there is of course such a thing as “cold wrought-iron”, as in wrought iron after it’s cooled off.

Either way, in the context of pre-20th century English texts which refer to apotropaic “cold iron”, it’s definitely not “cold-wrought”, or meteoritic, or a special alloy of any kind. It’s just iron.

Fiction

The old superstition kept coming up in fantasy fiction. In 1910 Rudyard Kipling wrote the very influential short story “Cold Iron” (in the collection Rewards and Fairies), where he explains invents the details of the fairies’ aversion to iron. They can’t bewitch a child wearing boots, because the boots have nails in the soles. They can’t pass under a doorway guarded by a horseshoe, but they can slip through the backdoor that people neglected to guard. Mortals live “on the near side of Cold Iron”, because there’s iron in every house, while fairies live “on the far side of Cold Iron”, and want nothing to do with it. And changelings brought up by fairies will go back to the world of mortals as soon they touch cold iron for the first time.

In Poul Anderson’s The Broken Sword (1954), we read:

“Let me tell you, boy, that you humans, weak and short-lived and unwitting, are nonetheless more strong than elves and trolls, aye, than giants and gods. And that you can touch cold iron is only one reason.”

In Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn (1968) the unicorn is imprisoned in an iron cage:

“She turned and turned in her prison, her body shrinking from the touch of the iron bars all around her. No creature of man’s night loves cold iron, and while the unicorn could endure its presence, the murderous smell of it seemed to turn her bones to sand and her blood to rain.”

Poul Anderson would come back to that idea in Operation Chaos (1971), where the worldbuilding’s premise is that magic and magical creatures have been reintroduced into the modern world, because a scientist “discovered he could degauss the effects of cold iron and release the goetic forces”. And that until then, they had been steadily declining, ever since the Iron Age came along.

There are a million examples, I’m just focusing on those that would have had a more direct influence on roleplaying games. However, I should note that all these say “cold iron” but mean “iron”. Yes, the fey call it cold, but they are a poetic bunch. You can’t expect Robin Goodfellow’s words to be pedestrian, now can you?

RPGs

And from there, fantasy roleplaying systems got the idea that Cold Iron is a special material that fey are vulnerable to. The term had been floating around since the early D&D days, but inconsistently, scattered in random sourcebooks, and not necessarily meaning anything else than iron. In 1st Edition’s Monster Manual (1977) it’s ghasts and quasits who are vulnerable to it, not any fey creature. Devils and/or fiends might dislike iron, powdered cold iron is a component in Magic Circle Against Evil, and “cold-wrought iron” makes a couple of appearances. For example, in AD&D it can strike Fool’s Gold and turn it back to its natural state, revealing the illusion.

Then Changeling: The Dreaming came along and made it a big deal, a fundamental rule, and an anathema to all fae:

Cold iron is the ultimate sign of Banality to changelings. ... Its presence makes changelings ill at ease, and cold iron weapons cause horrible, smoking wounds that rob changelings of Glamour and threaten their very existence.... The best way to think about cold iron is not as a thing, but as a process, a very low-tech process. It must be produced from iron ore over a charcoal fire. The resulting lump of black-gray material can then be forged (hammered) into useful shapes. — Changeling: The Dreaming (2nd Edition, 1997)

So now that we know how iron works, does that description make sense? Well, if we assume that the iron ore is unceremoniously dumped on coals, it does not. You can’t smelt iron like that. If we assume that a bloomery is involved even though it’s not mentioned, then yes, this is broadly speaking how iron’s been made since the Iron Age, and until blast furnaces came into the picture. But the World of Darkness isn’t a pseudo-medieval setting, it’s modern urban fantasy. So the implication here is that “cold iron” is iron made the old way: you can’t buy it in the store, someone has to replicate ye olde process and do the whole thing by hand. Now, this is NOT how the term “cold iron” has been used in real life or fiction thus far, but hey, fantasy games are allowed to invent things.

Regardless, 3.5 borrowed the idea, and for the first time D&D made this a core rule. Now most fey creatures had damage reduction and took less damage from weapons and natural attacks, unless the weapon was made of Cold Iron:

“This iron, mined deep underground, known for its effectiveness against fey creatures, is forged at a lower temperature to preserve its delicate properties.” — Player’s Handbook (3.5 Edition, 2003)

Pathfinder kept the rule, though 5e did not. And unlike Changeling, this definition left it somewhat ambiguous if we’re talking about a material with special composition (i.e. not iron) or made with a special process (i.e. iron but). The community was divided, threads were locked over this!

So until someone points me to new evidence, I’ll assume that the invention of cold iron as a special material, distinct from plain iron, should be attributed to TTRPGs.

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure! Finale Part 2

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION/ IMAGINE STORY- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART! - 

SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, PANIC ATTACKS, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING, SMOKING/ CIGARETTES , ALCOHOL

Tag List - @babybatlover @p0is0nl0ve @babiidee28 @darlingnikkisixx @commandershepardofthedas gooses-pond  rhiamaymay  scaraskzzs darkangelchronicles 

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Finale Part 2

“You’re Fired y/w/n..... You're fired, with immediate effect.” 

In that moment, in that very moment… I could say it was as if the world just fell away. As if the entirety of time stood still, as if silence was the only thing that existed on earth… but that could not be further from the truth. All hell had broken loose. 

The entirety of Judgement Day had completely lost their minds, they were screaming & shouting, demanding answers from Triple H who had now been surrounded by security in an attempt to hold back the furious group. Paul was trying to have his voice heard over them all but every word he got out, he was interrupted again. Liv Morgan had been quick to disappear out of sight choosing to wait in the wings of the ramp to enter the match. The Wyatt Sicks had already made their entrance to the ring and were now pacing their territory both inside and out of the cages. The monitors in Gorilla showed them playing up to the audience while many fans were chanting for The Judgment Day, for Mami, for Y/W/N big entrance. Abby the Witch, who had already entered the cell was sat in the middle of the canvas smiling, chanting to herself in hushed tones, her painted China mask glowing in the spotlight gave such an uneasy feeling to those in the front row. Meanwhile those further back in the cheap seats had been more than happy to begin poking fun, trying to stir up the Wyatts. 

“Y/W/N is gonna kill you…. Y/W/N is gonna kill you!” They sang, arms waving in the air as Dexter had jumped up onto the barricade alongside Huskus, shouting abuse back at the spectators. But the fans were just as quick to jump on them instead…

“Rhea’s gonna kill you… Rhea’s gonna kill you!” The audience chimed together. Out in the arena the atmosphere was really building for what everyone believed was going to be an incredible match. 

Meanwhile, backstage chaos was still at full peak. Anxiety was kicking in and I stood back from everyone in silence, I wasn’t entirely sure what to say, what to do. How do I even begin to process what he had said, what was going on? I couldn’t hear any of them now, my brain had turned into a cloud of fog. All I could focus on was a high-pitched alarm going off in the corner of the room, it was flashing on and off with an LED screen that displayed the words ‘ON AIR’. 

The main event of WrestleMania had been replaced last minuite with this Ten Man grand slam match. When it had been announced the crowd were beyond excited, they screamed and chanted ‘THIS IS AWESOME’ so loudly the ring announcers had struggled to be heard, even with a microphone. 

And yet I was not going to be in it? Pfft, over my dead body. 

I’m not sure where it came from, or indeed what bought me back to reality. Maybe it had been that alarm indicating that the show was live, and the production team were now running behind, given that The Judgment Day were still stood in Gorilla arguing with Paul and every member of the backstage crew. 

I took a deep breath and proceeded to walk over to the production crews table, picking up a steel chair and launching it across the room into the adjacent wall. The loud crashing sound echoed throughout the room as everyone fell silent and stared over in my direction. Rhea looked so concerned for me as her eyes scanned over my body for any sign of injury or upset. Meanwhile the boys were all far to angry to fully regulate their emotions at that point. 

“Enough…” I stated plainly, holding my head up high and slowly walking over towards Triple H. 

Rhea, Damian, Finn and Dom all took a step back to allow me to pass by them as I stopped in front of my boss. Security was quick to regroup and reform behind him while Judgment Day stood directly behind me, Dom reached out his hand to squeeze my fingers, desperate to make sure his girl was okay. Though I am sure he himself needed a little grounding too. 

“Why?” I questioned Triple H as he readjusted his suit shirt from Damian’s firm grip, making sure to fix his tie where Finn had attempted to throttle him with it. 

“Why am I fired? You have to tell me why. You can’t just fire me, walk away and think no one is going to question your decision.” My voice was plain, strong and confident. If I hadn’t been so focused on dealing with the situation in hand, I might have noticed Damian getting a little hot under the collar at his little lady dominating the problems at hand. I may have noticed Finn smirking with pride at the self-confidence I was displaying, or even Rhea with her arms folded and eyebrow raised, she knew full well her girl could handle business. 

Hunter cleared his throat as he placed one hand in his pocket and the other over his mouth, wiping the sweat of his chin and taking a breath. 

“This company, Y/W/N…has a strict no tolerance policy when it comes to fraternizing with other wrestling companies. You signed a contract young lady; you know the rules…. And you broke those rules. So…” Hunters words sounded almost humorous, like the situation to him was funny. 

“What are you talking about!?” I said, frustrated and confused at everything that was going on. 

Triple H very quickly got frustrated and ran his hands over his head, taking another sharp breath. 

“Look, we don’t have time for this right now. You lot…” He said pointing to Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn. 

“Get out to the ring, the match needs to start! Liv Morgan is waiting; she will be taking Y/W/N place. GO!!” His voice was harsh, he was not happy, but neither were my loves. I turned on the spot to face them all and smiled. 

“Finn, you always told me the show must go on, no distractions. Remember? All of you, go! Kick their asses, Ill fix this, I promise! I’ll see you out there” I held out my hands and they all quickly rushed in, sharing a warm group hug before they made their way out. Rhea turned before she exited through the curtain as The Judgment Day’s music played out in the arena, blowing me a kiss and offering a half corner smile. 

I watched as the monitors showed them all entering the ramp and making their way to the ring, the crowd cheering and chanting their names. But the front row quickly noticed it was Liv Morgan there and not me. And when Samantha Irvin announced Liv would be my replacement, the thousands of spectators were not happy. 

“BOO! BOO! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! WE WANT Y/W/N! WE WANT Y/W/N! THIS IS BULLSHIT. . . . . THIS IS BULL SHIT!” 

Liv smirked without a care in the world and made her way into the cell. 

The cages were locked, the bell was rung. 

The War began. 

“Ok!” I shouted facing my manager once more. 

“You are back on schedule, the production are happy and the show is running to time again! So, take a bloody chill pill grandad and explain to me what the hell you are talking about?!” I demanded standing in front of Hunter. 

He sighed, frustrated by my words and turned on the spot, taking an envelope out from the desk behind him and handing it to me. 

“Liv bought this to my attention after your match earlier, just shortly after you and the rest of Judgment Day went back to your locker room, I wanted to discuss it with you, but you were all…….. obviously busy.” He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at me, his tall figure looming above mine as I rolled my eyes at his words and proceeded to open the envelope. 

We must have been loud enough for Hunter to hear us! 

Tearing open the envelope I pulled out a handful of photographs but before I could take a look a sudden flurry of cheers from the crowd had me distracted for a moment. Both Triple H and I turned our heads to the monitor as Samantha Irvin’s voice ringed through the sound system. 

“Joe Gacy has been eliminated!” 

Dominik and Damian had managed to pair up while the others fought and with an assisted South of Heaven-Frog Splash Dom had pinned Huskus! A huge grin was plastered on my face as I turned my attention to Rhea who had Howdy pinned in the corner, pounding him with continuous punches to the face. That glint in her eye showed me she was fighting for love and her passion for revenge had completely taken over. 

Liv and Nikki were in the midst of a brutal scrap, exchanging punches and body kicks with neither showing any weakness, but my heart burnt deep and heavy. That should be me out there fighting! That is my title shot! 

Frustratingly I could also see Rowan had gotten back to his feet after a brawl with Finn, who had been sent over the top rope and into the steel cage. My poor Irish prince was in agony, then within the blink of an eye Rowans giant frame had flattened Damian with a hefty forearm, swiftly followed by a chokeslam to Dom who was now out for the count. 

“Dominik Mysterio has been eliminated!” 

“Shit…” I whispered under my breath, turning my attention back to the photographs. My heart ached for Dom, I needed to be out there. I need to sort this shit once and for all! 

“So, what is this?! What am I looking at?” I demanded taking a closer look at the photos. They were blurry, it looked like countryside landscape, but I recognized something in it. There was a vehicle in them, it was a white transit van, hidden slightly by some large branches hanging from the trees above. On the side of the van in large letters were painted ‘A.E.W’. And there I was, standing at the back looking over my shoulder. I don’t remember any of this though. There’s no denying it was me but… why do I look so…odd? Positioned so strangely? So lifeless? So?...

Then it hit me. 

This was the day the Wyatts had snatched me from my run, I didn’t look odd or strange, I wasn’t even conscious!

“I know how this may look H, but I promise you I have no connection to AEW whatsoever! Look…” I pulled the photo out to show him in closer detail. 

“Yes, it is me. But look you can see! My eyes aren’t even open and my hands… they are tied behind my back! I know its blurry, clearly this camera man they paid off is shit at his job! Look, I have a long history with the Wyatts, and one I don’t want to bring to light. I made some serious mistakes in my past and I learnt from them, Bray Wyatt helped me see that and I was a firefly. Howdy he, he can’t accept his brother has gone. And we all know when love cannot save you, evil is quick to thrive. This day, this day Finn had me training and I went for a run, the Wyatts grabbed me and took me to this old barn to try and scare me. I didn’t think much of it, Howdy’s always playing games but…..” My voice trailed off into a silent whisper as something caught my eye. 

“I never knew…. Why… they….” My voice was broken, barely audible as Hunter rushed to my side looking closer at the photograph in my hands. I was trembling as I only now realized the true ring master behind it all. 

There…

in the photograph….

Driving the van. 

My shaking finger moved to point at the driver’s seat, a blurry but prominent head of hair was clearly visible and we all knew who it was. 

“But.. that’s Liv Morgan?” Hunter questioned, taking the photo from my hands. 

“I never knew why they took me that day, it all seemed so strange. But it was, it was all so strange because it was a set up. She planned it right from the moment he set her free. Despite both of us being guilty for that night we took our revenge to far she had always blamed me. She set me up!” My voice more dominant then ever as I turned to face hunter. 

“I understand you cannot pull her from the match now, but you have to see this was all a set up! The idiot she is must of thought the photos being such a poor condition you wouldn’t of taken notice of her in the van when you could clearly see me. I deserve to be in this match, I deserve to fight for that Championship! HUNTER PLEASE!” I was begging him at this point. 

Triple H turned his head to the monitor as Samantha Irvin’s voice rang through the arena once more. 

“Dexter Lumis and Finn Balor have both been eliminated in a double pin!” Samantha sounded panicked as the referee had opened the door to the cage and Finn and Dexter had come out still swinging for each other after managing to get each other in a double shoulder down pin. Neither preparing to stop the fight they were still going until they were pulled apart by security and Dominik who was quick to check on Finn. He led him over to their opposing side of the cage as Rhea rushed to put her hand through the grate to Dom. She looked exhausted and Damian was clearly running on fumes now too. 

“HUNTER. PLEASE!” I threw my hands up to the screens as Liv was setting up her finisher.

Hunter said nothing, he simply reached over and flicked a switch on the keyboard. He nodded his head to me as my music drowned out the stadium and the crowd erupted into complete chaos. 

The lighting scheme changed to full on Judgement Day colors, flashing LED’s and stream spot lights illuminated the runway as I appeared at the top of the ramp. 

Inside the first cage remained Damian & Rhea vs Rowan and Uncle Howdy, meanwhile Nikki Cross and Liv Morgan were battling with what they had left in the second cell. 

Dom and Finn leapt up at the sound of my music, grappling the side of the cell and shouting at the top of their lungs as I ran at full speed down to the ring, the referee opening the cage door and allowing me entry. 

Locking eyes with Liv Morgan she grinned evily and hit her finisher on the witch, pushing her out of the way and to the floor below. 

And so there we stood. 

“We were friends Liv, we were family. How fast you were to sell me out...” I spoke.

“I didn’t sell you out… I bought in to a new way. You were weak, we could have finished that scumbag off for what she did to you. But no… Y/W/N always breaks, you were to soft.” Liv’s voice was full of spite.

“I wasn’t soft Liv, what we did was wrong. He taught me that, but it seems you never took his lessons to heart. A firefly always….” I tried to reason but she cut me off. 

“SCREW THE FIREFLIES!” Liv lashed out grabbing my hair and the fight began. Blow after blow, swing after swing, punch after punch. 

The crowd erupted and their chants could be heard the other end of the city. 

“Y/W/N! Y/W/N! Y/W/N! Y/W/N!”  

We tore each other apart in that ring, destroying every last piece of who we were and what we wanted to be. Nothing was off limit, and we knew it. Kendo sticks, fire extinguishers, chairs, tables and more. To the point of two broken women standing in front of each other, blood dripping and bruises across every part of the skin. The fans loved it, but they had no idea we were both prepared to destroy each other to secure victory. 

Rhea and Damian had Howdy and Rowan on their knees as they both set up for their finishers, taking a quick peek over to my match before sending these two scoundrels back to where they came from. 

“RIPTIDE! SOUTH OF HEAVEN! RIPTIDE! SOUTH OF HEAVEN!” The announcement desk was going wild, unable to comprehend the absolute madness of this match. 

“1……2…….3!!!!” THE CROWD CHANTED AND CHEERED! 

“Erik Rowan and Uncle Howdy have been eliminated! The Judgment Day win the first battle of Hell in a Cell!” Samantha Irwin announced, cheering as she did. 

Finn and Dom ran around to the side of the cell I was fighting in, Nikki cross was out for the count on the floor of the cage while Liv had me up against the ropes. My vision starting to blur as she laid her fist into my face repeatedly before getting off and picking up the Kendo stick by her feet. She swung it into my ribs again and again and again, Blasting any remaining air from my lungs. 

Liv then threw the stick to the side and turned to celebrate to the crowd, preparing her run up to the ropes for the final Oblivion. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” I could hear Finn’s voice coming from behind me. Turning my head I could just make out his silhouette. 

“Come on lass, you can do it!” Finn shouted, over the sounds of the crowd. 

“Come on my girl! Finish this!” Dom yelled. 

From my right I could hear two gentle voices calling out, trying to ground me back into reality. 

“Mi Vida, Mi Vida! Por favor, listen to me! You can do this!” Damian’s voice was gentle and full of love. 

“Bunny, you are our champion already, no you need to be theirs!” Rhea was right. 

I dragged myself back to my feet, Liv racing towards me and without a seconds thought I lept onto the rope before catching her off guard. 

“Y/W/N/F! Y/W/N/F! MORGANS DOWN MORGANS DOWN!” The announcement team went wild as I found myself laying next to Liv, she was out and I could see it. 

“PIN HER LASS! PIN HER!!” Finn screamed as I reached out, dragging my broken body towards the bitch, falling flat on top of her. 

1!!!!

2!!!!!

3!!!!!

The entire stadium flew into a chaotic celebration, with screams, cheers, chants and more! Confetti cannons blasted off down the entire ramp runway and fireworks set off, filling the night sky above. 

“She’s done it! Y/W/N has done it! We have a new champion! We have a new champion!” 

The referee unlocked the cage door and Finn, Dom, Damian and Rhea came bounding through tackling me to the ground. Their smiles, cuddles and kisses were almost enough to block any pain signals my body was sending, instead a flood of emotion took me out in waves as Damian hoisted me up onto his shoulders, parading me around the ring. 

Rhea was quick to take Liv Morgan by the scruff of the hair and send her headfirst out of the cell, dusting her hands off and turning away. 

“Get out of here, Puta!” Rhea’s accent had such a way when she spoke Spanish, I could feel my inner core heating up and Damian knew it. He bent down and Dom helped me off, grinning and planting a soft kiss on my lips. 

Finn came over, kneeling down in front of me and held out the ‘Women’s World Championship’ belt. 

“You did it Lass, our champion” he smiled, standing and pinning the belt around my waist. 

Finn put his arm around my neck, waving the others over to join us. 

There we stood, a full family hug in the light of the full moon under the glow of a million fireworks and the love of a million adoring fans. 

But no love as true, no love as strong… as theirs. 

“I made you a promise Y/N, you are a champion. Our champion…” Finn smiled, “Now, bring on those distractions!” 

I did it. 

I was their champion. 

‘To get over the past, 

You first have to accept that the past is over. 

No matter how many times you revisit it, analyze it, regret it, or sweat it, it’s over. 

It can hurt you no more’ – Mandy Hale

The End. 

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Did I find a bargain! This cute little home with a nice front porch in Gillespie, IL has 2bds, 1ba, and is only $69,900! And, guess what? It's already decorated with murals. You will think you're in a mansion. Take a look at this. Only 7 days on the market and it already has a sale pending.

Enter the front door into the living room, and you've got faux wainscoting in the Romanesque style.

I don't know what's happening in the rest of the room, though. Maybe they tried to remove it before it went up for sale.

The dining room looks like you're eating in a Roman villa. Note the built-in shelving, too.

I'm a bit confused by the kitchen. Is that mural glued onto the cabinets, or have the cabinets been removed? Note the cabinet over the microwave that looks like a little china cabinet. There's so much to see in this home. Then, it looks like they left a matching painting on an easel on the counter. Plus, the modern stainless steel farmhouse sink.

There's an additional cabinet under the window with shelving, as well as a shelf mural.

The kitchen has a large eat-in area, and you can see the granite countertops on the left.

The kitchen has a pantry thru which you enter the bath.

The part of the large bath by the sink, has a faux stone wall. There's also a mirrored closet.

Then, by the toilet and shower, there's a dark undersea mural. Isn't this mysterious?

Judging by the mural by the toilet, it looks like something out of "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea."

This bedroom has direct access to the bath. I'm very disappointed in the bedrooms, though. No murals.

But, then again, they're blank slates waiting for the new owner to put their stamp on them.

There's a nice deck in the back and it looks like the eat-in kitchen has a door to the yard.

Beautiful yard on a 7,405 sq ft lot. Not bad at all for the price. My parents started out in a small home like this.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/402-E-Maple-St-Gillespie-IL-62033/89979953_zpid/

[thevampiremarie]

Summertime Sadness (part 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Later’s better than never… right?

Ten years ago, Simon and you met at the same therapeutic boarding school. You fought, he said some shit, he left. He thought he’d never see you again.

Until one day, a hospital calls and informs him that you’ve listed him as your emergency contact.

(title from the song by Lana Del Rey)

-

Tags: mental illness, abuse, addiction, self harm, suicidality/suicidal ideation/suicide attempts, angsty shit in general, Ghost being very mean as a fucked up 17 year old boy

There’s an old battered flip phone he hides in the back of his locker wherever he’s deployed. Ghost doesn’t turn it on all that often. Everyone who knows the number is dead.

But sometimes he does, just to stare at the contacts and click through the photos and remember what it was like to talk to them.

Today is one of those days.

He can only take so much talk from his team about families, friends, dogs waiting back home, and pretty girls before feeling the urge to break things.

So he excuses himself to hide in the bathroom like a fucking pussy and takes the phone with him. Simon can pretend he’s waiting for his own phone call from people who love him for a few minutes. Then he promises himself that he’ll put it away and not touch it for another six months.

It takes forever to power on. It’s still janky from the last time Ghost threw it at a wall, it seems.

One (1) missed call.

…What?

They left a voicemail.

His fingers shake as he listens to it.

There’s a long, tinny beep. “Hi, Mr. Riley, I’m…” A woman says in a rushed, businesslike manner. “I’m one of the nurses at-“ Ghost hears a bustle of background noise; faint murmurs, emergency sirens, doors sliding open and shut. “…Hospital. I’m calling because a friend of yours,” The nurse says your name. A name he hasn’t thought about in years. “…Put you down as her emergency contact when we admitted her to our psychiatric inpatient ward. Unfortunately, she did not provide us with anyone else. Please give me a call back at this number if you’d like to speak with her.” Click.

Ghost starts packing an overnight bag before he even realizes it.

Then he’s on a plane.

-

TEN YEARS AGO

“I hate you.”

You’re crying as you run after him in the forest. He speeds up, trying to lose you in the trees. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Simon. I’ll never bring it up again.” Snot covers your upper lip and your eyes are bright with tears.

He hates this fucking place. He hates this fucking school, the kilometers of wilderness separating him from his life because the fucking shrinks think he’s crazy. He hates you for trying to keep him here.

And just when Simon was about to fly the coop, you spilled the beans. “Leave me the fuck alone. Never, ever, ever talk to me again,” He barks, stopping abruptly and turning to loom over you.

When you reach for his hand, he slaps you away. “But you promised you wouldn’t leave-“ You end up on the ground, the pine needles biting into your bare knees as if Simon shoved you.

That makes him angrier. You’re too soft for a world like this. You’re practically begging for someone to hurt you again, someone like him, with your vulnerability and open, bleeding heart. Well, he’ll fucking oblige. You’re not strong like you think you are. You’re the weakest person he knows, and weakness is something Simon could never respect.

“I lied. I fucking lied, you dumb bitch. Didn’t you realize it?” Simon snarls, wishing desperately he’d never let you befriend him on his first day at this therapeutic program.

You're sunshine and innocence and friendship bracelets, the kind of girl who will always be a victim because this world devours little girls like you. Simon is nothing like you. Simon is a survivor. A warrior. Simon is steel where you are china.

Your American accent is almost as unbearable as your pathetic weeping. “…What?” Your bottom lip wobbles.

Hopefully this will teach you a lesson about tattling. Nobody likes a snitch. “Forever doesn’t fucking exist. You were the only tolerable person in this shithole, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to be friends forever. What are you, a fucking infant? God, you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass.” If anything, Simon is letting you off easy. You told the counselor things Simon told you in confidence about his dad because you were ‘afraid for his safety.’

But you just don’t get it. Simon can’t spend another day here. And the longer he stays, the angrier his dad will get. You just earned him another week of shit and black eyes.

“Newsflash. People lie. Everyone’s been lying to you. Nobody likes you, not even your mum. And I can’t stand you. You were useful, but I don’t need you anymore. I’m better,” Simon hisses as cruelly as he can, using every blade in his arsenal to cut at the sensitive parts of you where he knows you’ll bleed. Just like you did when you told.

You’re only stuck in this place because your mum left you here. You don’t have anyone, not like he does. He has Tommy and his mum. He has a future. You’ve got absolutely fucking nothing.

“I was just trying to help.”

“I’m getting out of here. I don’t need your help. I’d tell you to keep it, but it wouldn’t even help you.” Simon pauses. You’ve stopped crying. Good. A crying fox is easy prey for the hunting dogs. “They won't believe you. And you wanna know why?” It feels good to be the hunter instead of the fox for once. You make excellent prey.

“‘Cause I told them the truth. That you’re an obsessed freak who’s hyper fixated on me and you’d do anything to keep me here. That you’re a sick, compulsive liar and that you’re the one who’s a danger to herself, not me.”

You fall silent. Finally, blessed silence. You look up at Simon with glazed eyes and a still tongue. He feels better. Good, even.

“Goodbye. I hope I never see you again,” Simon says flatly.

-

TODAY

You picked a good place to get yourself locked up in. This is one of the nicest hospitals Ghost has been in recently. Shiny floors, no dirt caking the walls. New York City puts Kabul and Moscow to shame.

He’s wearing a plain black balaclava. Nothing identifying or particularly memorable. This is going to be a short visit. Ghost will see what you want and then leave. That’s it.

You look tired, exhausted to the very bone.

None of the shiny pinkness that drew Ghost to you in the beginning when you were fifteen and he was seventeen. None of the glow, the round cheeks, the wide doe eyes.

There’s dark circles chiseled into your face, so dark he almost thinks they’re bruises. A couple of IV bags run through a drip hidden under bandages covering your arms from wrist to elbow. Your eyes are as quiet as you are. A couple of marbles would be more lively. You look almost like a doll forgotten in a corner.

The nurse gave Ghost the run-down as she guided him to your bed. Police picked you up on a bridge trying to off yourself. Your fifth time this year. Unless you show some real improvement, the doctors will recommend an indefinite hospitalization.

You’ve been busy in the decade of his absence. Multiple addictions, more attempts than he can count, and some small stints in jail. A list of disorders he wouldn’t know how to pronounce. And nobody left to call.

Is this his fault?

When Ghost rounds the corner, you smile like he should be proud of you. “You came,” You say.

I have absolutely no business starting a new fic. Absolutely none. Idk. I have brainrot. No clue when this will be updated. But here, have it.

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[physalian]

11 Underexplored settings of post-apocalyptic worlds

Inspired once again by my recent binge of abandoned explorations.

The greatest hits of the sprawling city scapes and farmland that feature in everything from post-alien invasions to zombie takeovers to just worlds gone by in a not-so-distant future tend to be:

Generic office buildings

Churches

Schools

Water parks

Suburbs

Famous monuments

Cruise ships

It’s come to my attention though just how many architectural abnormalities there are, in their own current post-apocalyptic states, that would absolutely befuddle archaeologists centuries from now trying to figure out their purposes.

So whether you want to go hard into “this new world has completely forgotten what came before it” or your very own and unique road trip through desolation, here’s some suggestions for cool and/or practical settings!

1. Disney/Iconic Theme Parks

2000 years from now after X disaster strikes, survivors completely removed from historical context stumble upon…. Disney World. They presume Mickey really was a giant mutant mouse, or a mouse-shaped deity worshiped by the local populace (and I mean… are they wrong?). People who might have never left the local area without planes and feasible transport, or knowledge that land across the ocean even exists, might be astounded by the buildings of Epcot’s World Showcase, or any of Disney’s themed resorts.

Water parks are done to death, but not enough emphasis is put onto how bizarre these places would look without context, even to a younger generation that has no idea what it used to be.

Orlando has a hotel with its own rainforest in a massive atrium, with ponds and boats and boardwalks inside. But, you know, I guess strolling through Chicago or New York City is cooler. It may be unfilmable, but it’s not unwritable.

2. The foundations of unfinished construction projects

The remains of an office building that never was, a veritable modern Stonehenge with how little would survive an apocalypse. Inexplicable areas of land with massive pits for unbuilt parking garages, or sprawling swimming pools and lazy rivers.

Or massive, skeletal towers that would have been the monument to a much larger estate that just lost funding. Buildings still surrounded by scaffolding, only half-complete with their windows.

3. Survivor’s encampment landmarked by a monument/hotel/theme park that was never built

In one of those abandoned videos, a company in China was trying to build a discount Disneyland and all that remains is an unfinished Cinderella Castle with steel shells of the gables… behind a modern shopping mall.

Any structure that would have been deeply out of place either in the country it’s built in, or the newer buildings that surround it, immediately looks more creative than just ‘generic strip mall’ or ‘generic high school’. And it’s also realistic, as projects like this fall through constantly, as a unique piece of your worldbuilding. Or, it did have its run as whatever the strange building was part of, and through bankruptcy and selling the land around it, it ends up being the only structure that remains.

4. Hotels that are made up as if the staff vanished instantaneously

Or, many, many Covid victims. Having your characters scrounge for resources through a hotel with beds still made, coffee cups on the breakfast tables, serving spoons and plates ready to go by the buffet. Halloween, Christmas, or Valentine’s decorations still on display.

The schedules for the final week of business still hanging in the offices, unopened mail, packages for guests still in the mail room, pallets of new soaps and supplies still in the delivery bay from the distribution center, linens still in the industrial dryers. I worked in a hotel scheduled for eventual demolition and the disrepair the interior fell into because, what’s the point of managing mold and bed bugs when it’s all getting gutted anyway, makes it super creepy knowing guests are completely clueless on the other side.

Places that have been completely ransacked and destroyed are creepy, sure, but places that are almost frozen in time despite the decay around them are both eerie, and rather dark. Cruise ships/confined spaces like ships tend to be used more for horror, but these, too, as if they’re frozen in time.

5. Cargo ships/shipping yards

An easy-ish one to film in. Looters breaking open shipping containers, or building entire communities and homes out of those containers either on land, or on the barges and ships. A community that can weigh anchor and move once resources and scavenging dries up, or another violent group moves in on the land.

Or, in the case of a viral apocalypse, a community relatively spared from the violence out on the open ocean.

6. IKEA/Furniture Warehouses and DC’s

Warehouses especially have few entries and fewer windows to secure, but as their contents (except the showroom floor) are in mint condition at the time of the world ending and probably stored in plastic and crates, they’d be relatively spared from the elements as a good base camp.

Furniture is also too heavy to loot in a panic and absconding with a brand new mattress probably wouldn’t be at the top of people’s minds as doomsday approaches.

Your little community each having their own lavish living spaces with whatever eclectic furniture they either liked or could now get their hands on for free would just be cool to read about.

7. Penthouse suites

Climbing those stairs would suck and depending on the build quality, the safety of the structure over time would degrade, but maybe your community has manual cranks for the elevators. There might be one way down, but there’s also only one way up, and you can see invaders and catastrophe coming for miles.

These places tend to be dripping in luxury your characters might otherwise have never experienced and they could either make a base there, or have a grand old time trashing the place up because the rich are dead and gone.

8. Historical forts

They lasted this long, why not a few centuries more? The fort that comes to mind is the Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida, right on the beach with a built-in defense wall and a huge courtyard for your community of plucky survivors.

Castles, too, though they’d likely be prime real estate for all manner of interested parties. Aging, famous forts are just never in these types of stories, unless it’s a picture of where the military used to be, now overrun or destroyed.

9. Ski resorts

Similar to the made-up hotels and theme parks, this one comes with presumably multiple buildings, potential use of the slopes and ski transports, isolation via elevation and remoteness from major cities, and the threat of bitter winters and blizzards.

Never been to one myself in winter, but remote locations for a post-apocalypse story tends to just be shorthand for “generic farm or small town,” which isn’t super immersive.

10. Luxury malls

Seen in The Last of US, it gives you a microcosm of so many different environments all slapped together and there’s no limit on what kinds of stores you could include, or all the kiosks, all the mini attractions like trampolines, kiddie parks, massage tables, and even VR flight simulators.

Maybe it has a theater tacked onto it, or a double-story book store, one of those rental spaces dedicated to fancy cars or candy stores. Great for the main setting or even just passing through, especially as they’re already a dying breed you can go ham with. ‘Luxury’ and designer items collecting dust right across from the discount store with everything for under &14.99 could strike a powerful message about social constructs.

11. Science museums

Sure you can make some poignant message about priceless artwork being left to rot, or. When I was a kid, I went to a science center with natural disaster simulators like house fires and tornadoes and a whole-ass IMAX theater where I saw Night at the Museum, the only movie I’ve ever seen in a proper IMAX dome.

There was a whole kids section with a ropes course, area for exploring the human body, a NASA-sponsored mock up space module, mock up grocery store, and little exhibits here and there about optical illusions and the physics behind laying on a bed of nails and how it doesn’t kill you. It’s just something unique and fun that your characters can interact with and gives them plenty to play off and give little anecdotes to make them feel more human.

—

Point is, your post-apocalypse doesn’t have to be limited to the usual suspects. We’ve all seen the strip malls and Walmarts and suburban homes and farms. There is no special effects budget or filming restraint in a book and I’d love to read more stories set in unique and descriptive places, or just fresh takes on your standard survival camp that isn’t just “build a wall around a section of neighborhood”.

It’s the apocalypse. All real estate becomes free real estate.

[cliksteelchina]

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[projectbluearcadia]

[P1] Heart of Blue

Lucifer x GN!MC

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]

[ Scenario: After a sweet and short date, Lucifer gets a l'il greedy and wants to spend some more time with you. With cuddles straight into caring sex, Lucifer wants to savor every moment.

Part 1 is fluff; Part 2 is fluffy smut. ]

I am publishing before my self-imposed due date for once, but it comes at the price of two parts. Here's to all the vanilla Luci-lovers <3.

Wordcount - 1178

“I was just thinking about getting...” What—Where the hell did he go?! you think as you look for Lucifer through mounds of antiques. Bizarre china, paintings, books, borderline ancient tools, rusty plant holders, old clothes, and no sign of your (stupid) boyfriend. He was right next to me! you think, annoyed as you wander back through the way you came. 

“Look at this,” you hear him say, before you feel his hand around yours—half-shocking you to death—before he drags you in the direction he's been looking. A wall full of pans. What in the ninth hell is he… “It’s Dead Steel,” he explained, hefting one such pan off the wall before he placed it into your hands and nearly made you drop to the floor in the process. He laughed softly as you struggled to hold it, shaking as you carefully set it down onto a dangerously creaking floorboard. 

“And… And why is that so fascinating?” you ask, trying to conceal your exasperation with him, and he turned to look at you, bemused. 

“It’s Dead. Steel,” he said, again, before he effortlessly swung the pan up by the handle and inspected the engraving. “The Devildom long fazed out of using it because the material is highly resistant to being enchanted. It’s heavy, it’s damn near indestructible, great for hitting people…” He flipped the pan over, fascinated as his burgundy eyes roved over it. “I haven’t seen one of these in thousands of years.” His eyes widened at the dark red, nearly invisible squiggle on the bottom. “Wait, this is my pan. I was wondering where that went.” 

“...you really are an old man,” you can’t help but snicker. To think he was so old that his possessions were ending up in antique shops that sold only items that were at least 500 years old.

“Oh, shut up, you,” he grunted. “You aren’t even the sperm cell that squirted from your father’s penis.” You find yourself furtively looking around while you cringe, hoping to low hell that no one heard that. 

“Lucifer!” you scold, and he chuckled. 

“Aw, does this old man embarrass you?” 

“Yes, but more importantly, please do not talk about my father’s genitals.” Some things are better left to the imagination, although Lucifer hasn’t quite seemed to grasp that concept yet. 

“You started it,” he hums, apparently pleased with your reaction nevertheless as he takes the 25 kilo pan in one hand. Child. He is actually a child, you complain in your head as he swings the handle on one finger. I guess he’s buying it. And how is he doing that? “MC, if you don’t pick something, I will buy something for bed,” he teases, picking up a cat o’ nine tails and shaking it tauntingly at you. 

“Now that you mention it, I was very interested in something before you ran off, thank you,” you answer shortly before you take him by the hand instead, dragging him back to where you had been roaming before he went and disappeared, shoving him in front of a small, glass case. Lucifer’s eyes widen, and his leather-gloved hands rest lightly on the case. 

“You really will melt my heart one of these days, MC,” he says solemnly, confusing you as you look back at the case. It’s just a pair of fountain-tipped pens that were completely unremarkable aside from what appeared to be two different snakes wrapped around them. One was the color of the ocean, and the other was the color of the sky. It wasn’t one ocean or one sky, because the snakes’ scales had been painted one by one into a satisfying gradient. 

“Is it because they’re cheap?” you guess, and Lucifer shakes his head as he takes the glass case with a faint yet bittersweet smile. Reminiscing, but it’s not the same. Did I find a precious memory by accident?

“No, not at all,” he replies as he takes the case with him, still faintly smiling as he brings both items to the register, paying for them both (He got a discount just because of who he was. Bastard).

“So are you going to tell me?” you prod as he hands the case to you, turning the pan in his hand as he walks in the direction of home with you. “Did you own these too?” He inclines his head. So he just bought back two old possessions. I’m almost surprised he didn’t demand that he receive them for free. 

“I gave them to Lilith as a gift,” he replies wistfully. O-Oh. Wow. Out of all the pens in the world I could pick… “I never really liked the man whom she would eventually call her husband, but I wasn’t stubborn enough that I couldn’t see how happy he made her. I gave them to her so that they could write to each other discreetly.” His tenderness, his kindness and his rich smile in that moment make you remember exactly why you fell in love with this prideful little bugger. 

“So… it’s a fond memory,” you clarify, and Lucifer softly chuckles behind his fist, his eyebrows scrunching together as he walks next to you, his step slow as if he never wanted to stop walking with you. 

“Fond, stupid, sweet… she actually argued with me about it because she said I’d be punished too if she was caught using them. I ended up yelling at her.” Lucifer smiles a little bitterly. “I would have rathered that God held me responsible as her older brother…?” Lucifer glances at you in confusion as you shake your arm in pain. “MC, did you just hit me?” 

“Really need to make it a habit to use magic to protect myself when I do that,” you grumble to yourself, rubbing your elbow, which had made contact with his oblique. Like elbowing a wall, Jesus... “Yes, I hit you. You’re doing the thing again. What’d we talk about?” 

“‘You are not at fault for your sister’s death, you do not deserve to be punished for your sister’s death, and no one blames you for your sister’s death. God can eat shit and go fuck himself,’” Lucifer parroted, word-for-word.

I’m happy you remember, but you really should be saying that from a first-person perspective... “I’m sorry. I know she’d hit me herself just the same. It’s just… difficult sometimes.” Lucifer shifted the pan to his other hand and offered his now-free one to you. You squeeze the glass case in your left before you lay your right in his, smiling with contentment as he looks at you fondly. “All the more reason to prize the things I have.” He gave you a surprise kiss on your temple as he leaned closer to you. “I have a meeting with Diavolo in half an hour, but…”

“But?” you prompt, and he rests his head against yours. 

“If… you’re not busy, then we’re cuddling up somewhere.” 

“Big softie,” you accuse lightly before you kiss his cheek. ‘If you’re not busy’; what a load of nonsense, you think with a smile. He already knows I don’t have anything to do today. I guess Diavolo’s just going to have to wait…

[jedineedlove]

Weapons of the Monkie Crew

Khakkhara

The basic design of a khakkhara is of a central staff, normally in wood, topped by a finial in metal, with a looped design, from which smaller metal rings hang on each side (similar to the stringing of traditional Chinese cash). Various numbers of loops and rings are employed, with each number being assigned symbolic significance on the basis of a variety of Buddhist numerical formulas. Historical examples from the Famen Temple include staffs with one, two, or four loops and four, six, or twelve rings on each loop.

Several versions of the staff's origin are given in the Sarvastivadavinaya, but in all of them the staff is recommended to monks by the Buddha in order to ward off animals- either for protection from dangerous predatory animals like tigers and lions, or for scaring off small creatures like spiders and snakes that might be trod upon by wandering monks. The ringing of the staff can also alert donors within earshot of the monk's presence, as monks traditionally remain silent while collecting alms.

The number of loops and rings featured on the staff was also assigned symbolic significance, according to a variety of Buddhist numerical formulas- four loops symbolizing the Four Noble Truths, six rings representing the Six Perfections, or twelve rings representing the twelvefold chain of cause and effect

Tripitakas / Tangs staff has four rings and with the added LMK universe flare magic.

Yue Ya Chan (Crescent Moon Spade)

Also known as the monk spade, the yue ya chan (月牙铲) is a typical weapon associated with the Shaolin warriors. It features a crescent-moon-shaped blade mounted on a wooden shaft and a flat wedge-shaped blade on one end.

In ancient China, the Shaolin monks carried spades when traveling to bury corpses they might find on their journey as part of their religious obligation. Eventually, it turned into a self-defense weapon with the addition of the crescent blade, which allowed hooking and sweeping techniques.

Chinese Bronze Swords

Of course, Meis is made of Jade but the Bronze sword I think bests fits her TYPE of sword. Chinese Bronze swords first appeared during the notable Xia and Shang Dynasties in China. They were an advancement from the prior Chinese Dagger, boasting a considerably bigger blade. These weapons stood out because of their wide and robust blades. Initially, people used these swords in ceremonies and rituals. As time passed, these swords played a pivotal role on the battlefield, which significantly altered the course of China's history. Along wth this I put a video of some people showing of Chinese Swords including the one I mentioned.

Nine-Toothed rake/ Baoqin Gold Palladium

This weapon is hard to find much of in the real-world use besides as a gardening tool but in the JTTW the Nine-toothed rake is a polearm with nine teeth. Pigsy’s weapon more closely resembles agricultural tools that were traditionally used by farmers since the Yuan Dynasty. It is said to have been handcrafted by Laozi from divine ice steel and etched with arcane symbols. I may not have been able to find much in words but I did find two videos of some guys showing off how it can be used in a fight.

Staff

Both MK and Macaque currently use a staff. The Chinese staff is considered the grandfather of all weapons. The long staff is the most common, usually about 7ft long, and constructed from hardwoods like oak or white wax. It originated from the long spears used by classical warriors. The Shaolin monks removed the spearheads and trained with only the shafts suited for their peaceful monastic environment.

NOW heres the BIG Question with just about everyone in the Monkie Kid Crew welding a weapon what about...... WUKONG!!

Look his hand-to-hand is awesome and has crazy powers but seriously after his staff has been passed down and this new chaos coming it might be time for Wukong to wield another weapon.

While looking up the other's weapons I found others on theme with other old Chinese weapons.

San Jie Gun (Three-Sectional Staff)

The san jie gun (三節棍) consisted of three short staves connected by chains. It functioned as a self-defense weapon, suited for either short-range or long-range combat. Unlike a long staff, it can be easily concealed and carried. It also allows various methods of attack and defense. Versatile and hard to learn, it is among the weapons of choice for many advanced martial artists.

To stay in the staff family like the other monkeys but still change things up.

or

Chui (Hammer)

A type of mace, the chui (​​锤) was a round hammer, usually used in pairs. It had a heavy head on the end of the handle for delivering powerful strikes. This ancient Chinese weapon was most popular in the Shang and Zhou dynasties.

The chui was known as the copper hammer because it was often made from copper, though other materials were later used. Since they are typically heavy and require great strength to wield, these weapons are not popular among kung fu practitioners.

I picked this for its blunt and powerful hit. Similar to the Monkey King's own fists.

or

Tie Jian (Iron Rod)

The term jian (鐧), written in a different character from the sword (劍), is also used to describe a heavy bar mace with a smooth rod. They were typically made from iron and called tie jian (鐵鐧) or “iron rod,” but there were also tong jian (bronze rod). The name iron rod is a reference to its plain metal rod.

In the West, the tie jian is regarded as a type of Chinese sword breaker—a heavy weapon capable of breaking swords and other weapons. During the Ming dynasty, the military used large two-handed versions of tie jian. By the Qing dynasty, single-handed versions were more common.

This weapon has the blunt power similar to a staff and having the reputation of a sword destroyer it seemed to fit the powerful hit from the Monkey King.

or

Hu Die Dao (Butterfly Saber)

Widely referred to as butterfly swords, the hu die dao (蝴蝶刀) is a type of double saber. These weapons developed due to merging typical Chinese fighting knife blades with Western-inspired hilts. They featured distinctive D-shaped guards, though their blades came in various forms.

The narrow types were efficient for heavy cuts and were likely to be used by the Chinese military units and the local militia. On the other hand, the broader types were efficient for disabling opponents without killing them and remain popular today among martial artists.

I picked these ones because they would be the only dule weapon. Giving some variety.

Each one of these I found could fit Wukong in one way or another. But if you have any other ideas for the Monkey King leave them in the comments

:) Thank you for reading.

[easternmind]

The weird and wonderful history of Kowloon as a digital interactive space - Part II

This article is the continuation of a previous post.

Any comprehensive history of 20th century Hong Kong is not complete without a chapter entirely dedicated to the architectural and urban planning puzzle that was Kowloon Walled City. Quite unlike any other slum in Asia or elsewhere in the world, the extreme conditions under which its inhabitants lived captured the attention of various international journalists and photographers whose reports of this accidental labyrinth, in turn, inspired some of the most remarkable artistic explorations of our time. In this regard, video games did not remain impervious to the powerfully stimulative imagery, as much a reference today as it was when its hardened concrete walls still stood tall.

Kowloon's Gate Suzaku VR - Jetman - 2017

Kowloon's Gate made a most unexpected comeback twenty years after the original episode via the crowdfunded VR project Suzaku developed by Jetman, a studio founded by and composed almost exclusively of ex-SME/Zeque staff. While it is not the remaster many had hoped for, essentially consisting of a walking simulation through some redesigned locations from the original, it does a commendable job in faithfully replicating its instantly recognizable, light-starved alleyways in competent high-definition. It is also the only VR-compatible entry from this list, granting it a degree of uniqueness over its counterparts.

Stranglehold - Midway/Tiger Hill Productions - 2007

Stranglehold is the result of a collaboration with Hong Kong movie director John Woo, developed as a direct sequel to his heroic bloodshed classic Hard Boiled, featuring Chow Yun-fat in the role of detective 'Tequilla' Yuen in his unending confrontations with organized crime. One of the game's most unforgettable levels, Slums of Kowloon, takes place during a particularly rainy day, seemingly in those last days when the zone had been emptied of residents and demolition work was well underway. The visual representation of the quarter is suitably evocative, its buildings in complete state of disrepair, the remnants of local businesses or places of prayer still discernible from under the piles of steel and cement rubble.

Resident Evil 6 - Capcom - 2012

For all its shortcomings, Resident Evil 6 partly succeeds in taking the first two episodes' concept of parallel storylines and realizing it to a much fuller extent. Its choice of different characters translates into entirely different campaigns, locations and playing styles. The very first scene in Chris/Piers' campaign occurs in the fictional Chinese city of Lanshiang, modelled after real-life Hong Kong. The mayhem in the main streets forces the player to take a detour into a location named Poisawan, which bears a striking resemblance to the Kowloon district. Though an unofficial representation, it is among the most skilled replications of the scenery we find in the vast photographic repository of the area. The degree of minutiae with which the district's haphazard electric installation is replicated, alone, suffices to demonstrate a true commitment to authenticity.

Paranormal HK - Ghostpie Studio - 2020

Few would dispute that Kowloon is, itself, naturally conducive to sentiments of dread and anxiety. Paranormal HK is a 2020 made in China production reviving the defunct neighbourhood in a gripping, blood-curdling contemporary ghost story. The player is the cameraman of a paranormal-themed TV show exploring the zone during the evening of the Zhongyuan festival, a scheme suspiciously akin to that of Akira Ueda's 2004 game, Michigan: Report From Hell. As a result of the thorough research work performed by its creators, as well as the impeccable usage of contemporary 3D graphics techniques to achieve accurate lighting conditions, players may momentarily experience the feeling of walking into a photo of the actual city as it existed in the mid eighties.

Sifu - Sloclap - 2022

Notwithstanding of its renaissance during the 128-Bit era, the beat 'em up genre is commonly associated with the arcade games of the late 80s and 90s, the period of time when it flourished and, arguably, reached its zenith. The simplicity of controls and ease of access sufficed to attract players to the arcade cabinet, while the frequently extreme levels of difficulty of advanced levels ensured a steady flow of cash for arcade room owners and game development companies alike. Nevertheless, the genre has but perished and, in many aspects, recent years have indeed elevated it to unforeseeable degrees of complexity. Sifu, by Sloclap, synthesizes the elation of digital hand to hand combat simulation with the real-life complexity of mastering a martial art.

As is the case of previous entries in this list, Sifu makes no admitted reference to Kowloon or Hong Kong. However, the designers left little to the imagination in what pertains to their inspirations when taking on the task of constructing the game's environments. Another notable coincidence stems from the fact that this production was made possibly with the support from a celebrated independent game funding group going by the name Kowloon Nights.

Stray - BlueTwelve Studio - 2022

Stray is one of the most revered independent video games in recent memory, and justifiably so. The long development process yielded many benefits, judging from the consistency and attention to detail that engrossed many an avid player. That the main character is singularly charming feline may have played an equally crucial role. The creators have made no effort to conceal the fact that the notorious Hong Kong district was a pivotal influence to the design of its nameless city. The first indication can be spotted in the game's earliest footage, in which a black cat traverses a street where a particularly conspicuous sign boasted the initials HK. Stray is less concerned with presenting a precise replica of Kowloon than it is about summoning the very essence of its atmosphere. Moreover, in an exquisitely poignant way, its ending lends an entirely new meaning to the term walled city. In the future, robots may well take the place of humans. Invariably, the Walled City is no more. Slitterhead - Bokeh Game Studio - Work in Progress

An sequence of unconscionable mistakes from the part of Sony Computer Entertainment's management galvanized Keiichiro Toyama to part ways with Japan Studio, as it once was, and establish his own game production label. Their debut title, Slitterhead, is described as a grotesque survival horror experience, a genre within which the author moves with matchless ease. Among the few certainties regarding this project is the fact that it will take place prominently - if not exclusively - within the Kowloon City province. A wide variety of aspects included in the preview footage leave the viewer optimistic as to this being one of the most accomplished portrayals of the district ever seen in a video game. Subtle yet telling signs already demonstrate the creator's in-depth knowledge of the quarter's architecture and history. Take, for instance, the suggestive image of the airplane flying mere meters above the top of the buildings. Although the growth of Kowloon was for the most part ungoverned, buildings did not rise above a certain height, even as inhabitants claimed for increased availability of space. This is due to the fact that airplanes landing at the nearby airport would be required to make their descent at relatively low altitude, performing a tight curve as they soared just above the enclave, thus preventing construction from expanding upwards. Another scene shows a child playing on the rooftops of the buildings, which once again is consistent with the documented habits of residents who, starved for sunlight and open space elsewhere within the city limits, had little alternative than to take the stairs all the way to the top.

Warehouse Kawasaki Arcade

I would be remiss not to make some form of allusion to Warehouse Kawasaki, an arcade built to replicate the Walled City with unthinkable detail. Though its ultimate purpose was for visitors to engage in digital entertainment, the venue was scrupulously put together. Point in fact, many of the objects used in the construction of the five floor amusement centre were imported directly from Hong Kong. Like so many other Japanese arcades, it closed its doors in 2019.

In recent years, a rather similar initiative was taken by the Chinese in their attempts to build unique mall spaces. The 文和友 malls in mainland China, found in Changsha, Guangzhou and Shenzhen, attempt to reproduce the walled city aesthetic. Local residents inform me that these are increasingly lacking in foot traffic, for which reason the majority of their stores are closed. Other digital replicas of Kowloon

A number of other videogames set in or deriving inspiration from Kowloon could not be featured in this article. A frequently cited reference in this context is the action/adventure game Fear Effect, one which I emphatically dispute. No doubt remains as to it being located in a futuristic version of Hong Kong, yet I could discern no parallels with the walled city, save for those scattered second-hand visual motifs that were no doubt imported from sci-fi classics such as Blade Runner or Ghost in the Shell.

The Utelek Complex stage of Deus Ex: Makind Divided presents a similar situation, where the overall atmosphere of the futuristic favela bears some resemblance to Kowloon, without meeting the specificity quota that would warrant a more comprehensive exploration.

The 2004 Shout! original Kowloon High-School Chronicle for the PS2 is a unique case, in that it borrows the city's name despite taking place in a massive, Tokyo underground dungeon that is later revealed to be a maze-like Egyptian pyramid. The odd choice of title remains unclear. Shadowrun: Hong Kong game (screenshot above) contains a very direct mention of Kowloon as the place in which an entire episode comes to pass. Another project still in development, Kowloon's Curse (screenshot below), is following the lead of many popular independent horror games in recent memory by using a visual design and structure that elicits memories of the late Playstation/early Dreamcast era. A short prequel episode was made available earlier this year, for free.

Additionally, I refrained from mentioning the Kowloon maps in Call of Duty: Black Ops or Counter-Strike: Global Offensive, as I perceive both games to be insufficiently relevant to merit study or contemplation.

A space that refuses to be forgotten

(China rooftop stage from The King of Fighters 2003)

It would be a gross overstatement to claim that Kowloon is a recurring location or level design motif in videogames. The relationship between digital games and the real life ghetto has been one of sporadic references. What makes the subject so engrossing pertains to the quality of the relationship, particularly that of a small cadre from among the titles featured in this article. Kowloon's Gate was one of the most relevant game creations of the 32-Bit era, a game deserving of reverence and cult following inside and outside Japan. Likewise, Shenmue II is the second instalment of a truly ground-breaking and highly advertised series whose production costs alone were unmatched until quite recently.

Moreover, this is an affair that is far from concluded. The unexpectedly high number of allusions to Kowloon in videogames released or revealed just last yet demonstrates that its aesthetic is still very much present in the minds and hearts of artists and designers working in the field. The walled city lives on as a digital demarcation that is certain to resurface time and again in years to come.