#Copper / Iron switch

[redkoi1]

Nephilim, mentioned as Giants in the Bible who fell from the heavens and gave man knowledge to advance their technology, weaponry, and science in exchange for Homosapien women. The women bore the Nephilim's children and they died during childbirth. I've read they have 6 fingers. No man alie today can wield that.

and so he didn't come back...

fucking gnarly i just noticed the arrowhead-hilt that's ferocious af DEMACIA!!! #ArmorPen

[...] >"pebble-rape"(in reference to getting stoned to death) [*everybody's losing it] > v

>collectively delving into what was instantly coined as "rape-ology" >Brick rape beats ear-rape >well that one's obvious

>#CockPaperScissors (eww😂) poggers >S for P >mmwait >R for P >what's Saper? [thinking emoji.]

>uhh. 🧟 #NoHomo #ButIThinkImOntoSomething

[suppenzeit]

i think it was funny of me to make one of my alien (basically star trek aliens tho) species very much not human (no iron in blood and all that jazz) but also much closer to humans than any other species (have boobs that produce milk)

[arieswritez]

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 4

chapter 3

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! MENTION OF ANIMAL DEATH, reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you’ll miss it), SADIST MARK, violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, so . . gore, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he’s a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; [the fuckin' thought of you with somebody else, i don't like that.] . . actually, if you even consider leaving i'll lose a couple screws in due time, i'll stop breathing and you'll see the meaning of stalker when i pop out the dark to find you and that new dude that you're seeing with a attitude - IFHY (tyler the creator)

4.

there was blood on mark's hands.

syrupy and wet.

the distinct stench of iron rot fogged up his senses.

blood clots stuck like soft gelatin between his fingers. stretching, snapping webs of gore whenever he opened and closed his hands.

still warm as he switched on the water from your sink.

the suds from your hand soap came up a copper brown, adorned by tiny rivulets of red as he dug beneath his fingernails to scrape away any remnants of viscera.

dna washed away by tap water.

his skin purified once again.

mark looked up and met the eyes in the reflection, making sure to pick off specks of skull fragment and the fatty tissue of brain matter from strands of his hair.

what a fantasy.

a blink and it's all gone.

just like you.

you and your attention.

your undying devotion. a huff and the flame gets snuffed.

better yet. . you light and pass the torch to someone fucking else.

it's no good.

there's no use being mad at you and your uninspiring devotion. how special is your love, really, if it is so easily obtained?

and why does the fact that it no longer belongs to mark so upsetting?

why'd the realization that anyone who called you pretty would have you fantasizing about baby's breath bouquets - something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in your shoe - make his blood run that much hotter?

why'd it make him stare down into the sink, faucet running, as he tried to slow down his breathing? gripping the edges of your porcelain sink until he heard it creak. counting forwards to a hundred, then back again.

he did all the things the therapist his mother took him to recommended he do when those feelings came up. things to see, smell, and touch, and taste. but the only thing that came through the ringing in his ears was the vivid fantasy of tearing your boy apart.

he could see the light leaving his eyes. he could smell the acrid stench of piss running down the coward's leg. and god knows he'd only ever touch him to dispose of his body.

and at the end, he'd taste the tears collecting at your cupid's bow when you sought comfort in his presence. just like the old days. it'd all be worth it in the end.

. . he shouldn't have read your dairy.

not because debbie raised him to 'respect privacy' - because who doesn't keep shit in their notes app in this day and age? - but because it put him in a shitty mood.

but he was also glad he did it.

it revealed what your problem was.

and mark's always been your problem solver.

mark was imaginative.

mark was smart.

mark was also patient.

surely, you'll get bored.

you'll preoccupy your mind with mundane things: how the world spins, for example. what you'll make of yourself. what people will think of you.

ouroboros: swallowing yourself whole trying to find the beginning to the end.

will you be loved? how will you be loved?

you're a glutton obsessing over not being enough in the first place. more, more, more.

you'll dizzy yourself.

come full circle, nausea and vertigo, habitually crawling back to him.

you're a distracted little thing.

you always have been.

it's in your nature.

mark tries not to be too hard on you about your romantic pursuits.

after all, you'll go after what you think you deserve.

and if that's dysfunction, then so be it.

however. . . your standards could be a little higher. had it been any other person occupying your mind. . mark wouldn't have cared.

oh, not at all.

he cares fuck all about your meaningless schoolyard crushes but the one thing that boils mark's blood is all of the abuse.

the hoops you have to jump through for the smallest shred of applause.

and really, how pathetic do you have to be? why can't you see that he's using you? as entertainment. as a pet. as a clown.

and what you don't understand is that deep down. . mark and your boy aren't all that different.

which explains why you like him so much.

mark and your boy were sharks.

your boy could smell your blood from a mile away; see the desperation in the way you sauntered past him, salivating at the thought of being the apple of his eye.

he saw you for what you were: prey.

and they saw right through your flimsy little costume of new clothing and perfumed wrists.

your boy and his group of cronies didn't laugh at your jokes because they thought you were funny. they laughed at the idea of you believing they found you entertaining.

your mediocre attempts at relevancy were funny - hilarious, even - because of how eager you were to impress them.

and the only reason why they hadn't used and discarded you like a plastic bag with warm dog shit inside of it was because they were more than happy tossing a coin into traffic, making you fetch just so they could entertain themselves watching you get hit by a bus.

but everything for your boy, right?

you and that fucking boy.

whatever it is, mark's more than willing to find a way to make all of that stop. he's devised some plans to make everything go back to the way they used to be.

it'd always been you and mark.

mark and you.

he planned to keep it that way.

and so, he was on his best behavior.

he'd let you have your boy.

he'd push down the bile that crawled up his throat whenever he imagined his hands on you. whenever he saw your face light up whenever your phone pings with a notification.

mark can be a very good actor.

he'd act as if his stares weren't deadly when you looked up and caught him looking at you. he could melt those icey eyes, the ones that glaze over in anger, and turn them into their usual warm brown.

he's on his best behavior.

attentive, even.

he's so, so interested in what you've got going on.

who are you talking to? yes you can tell me. no i won't get mad. yes. i promise. him? yeah, I remember. why didn't you tell me?

no, i'm not mad.

good for you!

no, i won't threaten him.

who do you think i am~?

mark knows better than to be outright poisonous towards you. not when there was another boy willing to stuff your pretty little head with cotton.

you are far too sensitive to hear anything that isn't a candied lie. if he plays nice, it gives him the upper-hand.

there is no need to vent to a diary when your best friend is sitting in front of you, doe eyed and innocent, the way he pretended to be when you two were twelve and his mom would check up on you in his room. or when teachers would walk past and he had to pretend he wasn't pressing the sharp point of his pencil into your thigh.

mark loves your parent(s).

they aren't that much different than you.

in fact, mark has come to find that there aren't many people that match him in terms of intelligence.

he can see why you came out the way you did. un-special, if he's feeling kind. the other word he'd like to use is not nice to call someone.

pining after approval, your parent(s) were very easy to like.

very easy to control.

"i just don't know if they've told you, yet. . it seems kinda unfair that i'll be the one to say." mark mutters under his breath, tracing shapes into the dining room table as your parent(s) sit across from him.

"mark," your parent reaches across the table, hoping to grab his hand, only for mark to pull it out of their reach. "if something's happening. . we want to know. we need to know."

"it's just that. ." mark pauses, gives a few seconds to really build the tension. "it's a bit embarrassing."

super.

he's worried about you, you see? there's a group of guys you've been chasing around in school. . and mark doesn't think they have your best interest in mind.

mark has heard. . things.

but you've gone cold on him.

he's worried you might be. .

well, he's worried you might be having sex.

with a few. .

. . all of them?

oh, who gives a shit? the more the better. and the more mark spills, plucks things out of thin air, the more petrified your parents look.

he makes sure to say it.

sex.

hisses, purrs it, whispers it like it's such a bad word.

he even wills himself to look embarrassed, averting his eyes like it's a shameful thing.

it brings him back to the day debbie caught him with some girl after a baseball game.

she had just been some random. a shiny object that called mark's attention. something he could put his dick into while he tucked his face into her neck and imagined the sounds you'd make.

his mom should've known he was already having sex. however, having been caught with his pants down and balls deep in someone wasn't necessarily the way he planned to break it to her.

he heard his mom and his dad arguing in the next room that night and, coincidentally, nolan came in and gave him 'the talk' to the best of his ability.

humans are fragile, mark.

yes, they are.

but the bruises on her were not his fault.

she was soft.

and she'd liked it.

nevertheless, your parents are not as forgiving as mark's.

they promise him it's not a big deal. that he did good. that he's good.

a good kid, a good student, a good friend.

but as soon as he's gone, he knows they are searching your room top to bottom.

he flies up to your room and peeks in through the curtains to watch them toss open closet doors, rummaging through clothing, bookbags, notebooks, whatever they can find.

and finally, your bed.

your diary with all the juicy, dirty - downright violent, jesus - fantasies mark wrote by forging your handwriting.

and your nightstand.

wherein tucked underneath your cute underwear lays a shiny pack of condoms.

at least you're being safe.

you'll never hear the end of it.

it's too good to miss and mark doesn't care if he has to wait all day for you to get home. he wants to watch your everything crash and burn.

not that he'll have to wait much, anyway.

your parent's on the phone, trying to contain red hot anger from spewing out like a backed up volcano, hissing at you to get home, now.

you poor thing.

you poor, poor, thing.

you don't know what to tell them when they toss the pack of condoms at your feet.

when they shove the journal in your face, showing you all the depraved things you wrote in that cute little scrawl.

the boys, the nights out in which you claimed to be at mark's: helping him out with a project.

yeah, right, stop lying, already!

"give me your phone. now."

fingers feverishly tapping and swiping, going through texts as tears stream down your flushed face.

you've got a date tonight.

and you hadn't told your parent(s).

what a coincidence, oh my!

your boy must've planned to seal the deal that night. and mark would be damned if he didn't have you first.

mark doesn't need to worry.

that's definitely not happening now, is it?

in fact, you won't be able to go anywhere that isn't class for the rest of the school year. not unless you're monitored by mark. and isn't it embarrassing, mark having to be some sort of guardian?

"I thought you were smarter than this."

and you're too good to yell back.

you're too good to argue and try to explain that it wasn't you.

you didn't buy condoms. you didn't write that. you didn't do anything.

but if it wasn't you, who was it?

who did?

you look every bit of a cornered animal. it's very you: to freeze in situations like that. back to the door, facing the window just enough for mark to be able to peek at every emotion going past your face through the crack of your curtains.

he watches it flicker past your eyes, the way the muscles in your neck tense up when you squeak out those ugly, strangled, sniffed out cries. the ones you try to hold back when you're crying alone in your room and you want no one else to hear them.

the ones you'd let out at your desk when you were itty bitty and your parent had dropped you off at kindergarten, promising you they'd be right back, but they never were.

you are so much like the way you used to be.

mark wishes things hadn't changed.

he wishes you were just as innocent, as good. he wishes no one would've turned you into what you are now.

he wishes you wouldn't have been stupid enough to let them.

you don't say anything.

you don't even push past your parent when they're done berating you, just stare down at the floor until their mouth has dried, and they shoulder check past you.

you only slowly turn to push the door closed, grab your computer and send a message to the only person you think you can confide in.

he arrives in ten minutes.

enough to make it believable, climb up a tree and sneak into your room.

you fall into his arms immediately, sobbing.

mark hopes you don't feel him smiling against your shoulder as he comforts you.

your boy has been different since the last time you talked to him. distant, distracted. different. you catch him zoning out whenever the two of you are studying in the library, not reciprocating when you try to play footsies with him.

you're not sure if it has to do with the night you had to cancel your date. sure, it was last minute but he'd told you that it was okay. but with everything going on at home, you don't have the patience to hear him lie.

"seriously, what's up?" you ask, kicking his shoe softly.

your boy looks up at you.

his eyes used to gleam with confidence. the type of cockiness that'd make your cheeks burn and butterflies flutter like mad in your stomach. but they looked empty then. he looked like he hadn't slept well. that night or the one before.

he looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. you leaned forward in response, your curiosity peaked.

"this is going to sound weird but. . do you ever get the feeling that you're being watched?"

you blinked.

"uh. . hm. ."

come to think of it. . sometimes you did. you've been sensitive to eyes on you since you can remember. the hyper vigilance is something you've grown accustomed to, making peace with the fact that it might not be a curse after all, and instead some sort of safety feature.

but it felt different.

not like the irrational tickle in your stomach whenever you think of a possibility. but the speckling feeling across your skin, crawling with a million legs, the kind that makes you hallucinate a breath against your neck. the type that has your head rolling, looking for an intruder.

nothing.

but you didn't tell your boy.

because your boy was talking about himself and you've learned to insert yourself into it could be rude.

you settle with saying, "what do you mean?"

he shrugged a shoulder. "i dunno. watched. I get that sometimes. see something from the corner of my eye. and when I turn to look it's gone."

you felt your heart pick up speed. strange. the same thing had been happening to you.

you let out a nervous laugh. "if you're saying this to scare me I'm gonna get really mad, y'know?"

"i'm serious." he said, almost urgently. "and here's this: i was walking to my car after baseball practice and found some weird red shit smeared across my windshield."

he's fucking with you.

surely, he is.

this must have something to do with the rumour circulating around school. the one in which they've seen a figure whizzing past. the one in which that figure is the reason in which some animal carcasses have been found in the baseball field, mutilated like some sort of fucked up science experiment. a villain that's found a hobby in terrorizing the town, perhaps.

"it's probably nothing." you whisper, unsure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

"probably." he responds.

he doesn't look convinced.

and he doesn't reciprocate when you try, again, to get his attention.

your boy was gone.

gone, gone, gone.

word around the school was that he'd transfered.

but that started to feel suspicious when the students noticed the smell.

something easy to dismiss at first.

the kind of funk attributed to warm weather and not enough deodorant. growing boys and their scattered hormones.

and then it grew.

bold, loud.

ugly enough that it couldn't be ignored.

sour.

downright rancid.

and it was all coming from your boy's locker.

it got so bad a janitor had to pry his locker open.

and that's where they found a decomposed animal, tire marks through the middle of the delicate body. maggots swarming in the orifice where the eyes used to be.

you don't remember when the last time you saw him was.

you don't know if you ever will.

with his past time of mutilating animals and collecting roadkill, you're not sure you even want to.

and if you did, the only thing you'd ask is why?

mark seemed the least surprised about it.

he hadn't so much as grimaced as he told you the story of his locker being pried open.

the stench was the worst thing, apparently.

although, it wasn't enough to deter his appetite as he popped grapes between his fingers, making sure to squirt the juice onto you as he described fat, wriggling maggots falling off in swarming little balls off of the carcass.

you shiver, skin crawling, staring at the pile of homework before mark.

now that your boy had vanished into thin air, his entourage wanted nothing to do with you. you figured it was only normal. you were all preparing for finals, applying for college, planning ahead.

still, it hurt.

it hurt to think you almost had it, almost had him, but it was all taken away. you're not sure why you feel that way, but you do.

and the only thing keeping you afloat is the fact that you've found your way back to mark.

it reminds you, he'll always be there for you.

no matter what.

it's nice, you think.

spending time with your best friend.

even if it means doing mark's work again.

CHAPTER 5

[thecatchat]

Free fic idea because I know I'm going to run out of energy if I try to write it myself.

Takes place after the realized ending. I don't know what the cannon ending is but I'm imagining they definitely buy a bar together and name it The Breaker Box, but they eventually realize that running a human bar requires more than two people, no matter how much they try. So they hire a small amount of staff, I'm thinking no more than 4 people.

This would be a 5 times someone learned something new (or odd) about their bosses and the 1 time it made sense/someone put it all together.

1. Volt and Eddie kiss in front of a homophobic costumer, revealing that they're a couple to the employees.

2. Eddie adopts an orange alley cat and names them Copper. Copper disappears for a few days and Eddie is fine (he's overworking himself with worry. He's replacing lightbulbs whenever he can get away with it, none of them are actually burnt out.) When Copper comes back, they drop 3 kittens in Eddie's lap and curl up at his feet. ("I'm not a cat dad, I'm a cat uncle at most.") The kittens names all relate to electricity. Due to this, Volt or Eddie reveal that electricity, or even specifically a breaker box, was the reason they met in the first place and refuse to elaborate.

Rest under the cut because it got really long.

3. The staff are invited to a team building thing, it could be a party or an escape room or whatever. Point is: there are black lights illuminating the space. Volt sees his reflection under black light, sees how his hair looks like it's glowing and shuts down? Maybe even starts crying without realizing it? Either way, when Eddie is going to comfort him, one of the employees hear Volt say "my hair is glowing again." Or something along those lines. The employees learn that Volt has an emotional reaction to his white hair glowing.

4. One night, the breaker trips due to a storm and Eddie runs off to fix it almost like a mad man. Volt is caught up keeping the guests calm and entertained so when it takes Eddie a while, an employee goes to check on him. They find him staring angrily/confused at the breaker box and mumbling like he's missing something. The employee flips the switch on the breaker and Eddie is startled out of his trance. When asked why he didn't flip the switch he's like "I- I couldn't feel it." Now he's shut down and/or tearing up. The employee panics a bit, puts a cat on him then goes and tells Volt what's happening. The employees aren't sure what they've learned, but it's definitely something.

5. Somebody gets a little violent/rowdy at the bar or an after closing repair goes a little wrong and Eddie or Volt gets hurt, dealers choice. Now, I think realization shouldn't come without its quirks, some more obvious than others. For Volt and Eddie, I think their blood should be blue. Our blood looks red because when the iron in it oxidizes with air it becomes a red color. If the blood has copper instead of iron, like Horseshoe Crab blood, it appears blue when oxidized. Copper wires = copper blood = blue blood.

So all 4 employees see that their employer is bleeding blue. Everyone is shocked, eventually the unhurt boss calls Freya, because they can not go to a hospital for this. In the meantime while they wait. "Um, is that blood?" "No." "What is it then?" "... blood can't be blue." "Horseshoe crabs have blue blood! They're really cool animals." "... human blood isn't blue." "..."

In the days following, lots of really odd people swing by specifically to talk to Volt/Eddie. Whoever you want, just, individually, any resemblance to an object is a fun thing to see. But when every single person who's specifically asking after your boss reminds of something/is a very distinct personality, it begins to pile up that something is weird.

+1 - I think this point could be told from Eddie and/or Volts pov. Basically, the employees are trying to figure out what kind of magical creature their bosses are. Someone tried to stick a fridge magnet on Eddie (robot). Someone flicked water at Volt (Holy water, vampire). They both keep getting poked with metal things (Iron, Fae). Eventually they call up a meeting to tell them to knock it off.

"You tell us what you think we are and we'll tell you if you're correct or not." "Hint: we're human." *a few incorrect guesses* "um, more of a question than a guess. But, um, were you cursed to be a breaker box? At some point?" "..." "..." "..." "Volt. Don't." "I didn't say anything."

Up to the author if they fully explain the house thing or if they basically go, "You're not right, but you're not wrong either. No more questions." Either way, I think that could be the end of the fic.

[teaboot]

How many things that they got at the hardware store can you name

soda machine, gum, yard nicknacks, snacks at the counter, lighters, keychains, key blanks, air conditioners, aluminum sheeting, awls, dremmel heads, dremmel, sander, sandpaper, metal polish, shammies , hammer, screwdriver, leather wipes, car wax, wood polish, wood wax, wood, copper, pipes, linoleum, paint, primer, sealant, caulk, caulking gun, drywall, spackle, brushes, nuts, bolts, screws, washers, nails, staples, staple guns, carpet tacks, eye hooks, locks, knobs, doorknobs, hinges, baseboard, seeds, sheeting, shovel, spade, rake, gloves, goggles, coveralls, coats, reflective vests, headlights, butane, propane, nozzles, hoses, rubber tubing, shower heads, faucets, light switches, outlets, wire, lightbulbs, wire stripper, pliers, electrical tape, soldier, soldiering iron, weed whacker, paracord, rope, stakes, bags, bug spray, chip board, saw, knives, wall screws

[belit0]

HIIIII, hope you're having a good day/afternoon/night and sorry if i'm bothering (⁠*⁠﹏⁠*⁠;⁠)

how do you think the uchiha guys would be with an s/o who gets super scratchy and bitey in sex? like, to the point of drawing blood—and she totally loves getting the same treatment back, blood and all 🤭

feel free to ignore if this makes you uncomfy <3!

nothing makes me uncomfy at this point (except feet, keep those away), i've seen it all ajsdhaksdhas

Madara, Izuna and Shisui

Madara

Madara doesn't start out scratchy.

No—he begins like a man pretending he’s above it, like he has control.

But that control is paper-thin when it comes to her, and when she bites, really bites—teeth sinking into the curve of his shoulder with a growl—something in him snaps.

His eyes flash red, and his hand fists in her hair.

-You think I won’t return the favor?

She barely has time to answer before his teeth are sinking into her breast.

He bites hard, not to hurt but to claim—to leave her marked, bruised, bleeding in a way only he gets to see.

Her nails rake down his arms in return, splitting skin, and he shudders like it's ecstasy.

When her nails draw blood, when she laughs low and eager against his throat, when he tastes iron on her skin—he knows he’ll never crave anything so human again.

He ends up with claw marks on his shoulders, blood drying in streaks across his ribs.

She wears the crescent of his teeth above her heart.

And neither of them covers it up after.

Izuna

Izuna?

Oh, Izuna is the scratchy one. From the start.

He kisses like he’s starving, devours like she’s his last breath.

And he loves it when she scratches back—when her nails dig into his thighs, her teeth drag across his jaw, her mouth tastes his skin like it’s meant to be ruined.

He moans into it—open, unashamed, loud.

-Harder,- he pants against her throat, already sinking his teeth in.

She obliges.

Her hand wraps in his hair and yanks.

She bites his shoulder, his ribs, his lip. He grins, bloodied. -Fuck, I knew you were like this,- he breathes, kissing her again, deeper, tongue laced with copper and fire.

There’s nothing elegant about their passion—it’s chaos, bruises blooming like roses, scratches stinging fresh with sweat.

He bleeds and she licks it.

She whimpers and he growls.

By the end, the sheets are clawed through, and they’re both trembling, raw and wrecked, with blood drying on their mouths.

And Izuna?

He laughs, wild and bright.

-We're doing that again. Tonight. Tomorrow. Always.

Shisui

Shisui pretends to be sweet.

At first.

He's warm, careful, soft-spoken, even as he kisses her slowly, eyes burning like coals under silk.

But when she drags her nails down his chest, teeth nipping at his throat—he exhales a moan and lets go.

The switch is sudden.

His hands pin her down with surprising strength. He leans in, whispers—

-You like it messy, don’t you? Bloody? Good. So do I.

And then he bites.

Deep.

He doesn’t ask because he already knows.

She writhes against him, moaning as her nails draw blood across his back, and he shudders like it’s rapture.

He doesn’t just want her marks—he craves them.

He kisses around her scratches with reverence, worships the pain they both welcome.

When she bites his hip so hard she tastes blood, he pulls her closer, panting, forehead pressed to hers.

-You feel that? That’s mine. And I’m yours. Bleed for me again.

And she does.

[swordbisexual]

He'd wanted to do this properly. He'd wanted to allow Enid to invite him to her quarters, to take his time with her, to do all that Commorragh hadn't allowed them in their desperation. It is the least she deserves, Heinrix thinks, and the very least he could do.

Enid, however, had other plans.

The both of them lie half-clothed on her bed, a trail along the floor of coats and boots and trousers that lie where they'd been left in their fervor. She'd been on him the instant they were alone, and for all his practice at restraint, he's only a man, burdened by base desires; he couldn't help but respond to her touch, to pull her over him and let her take all he could give, til they were both spent and sated.

There are still pins in her hair, holding the braid in place that loops around the knot at her crown, and when she nestles into him, one of them jabs him in the jaw. "By the Throne," Heinrix mumbles, rubbing at the spot. "We should have taken care of those first."

Enid sits up with a laugh. "I'm not sorry."

"Neither am I." He watches her reach for the first pin and sits to meet her, resting his hand on her wrist. "May I?"

Her cheeks color, but her voice is light as she folds her hands in her lap. "All right."

He removes the first pin that juts out from the knot, or tries to; something at the bottom snags, and he has to gently wriggle it out to keep from pulling her hair. “A multi-key?”

She smirks. “Keep going.”

The next pin is purely decorative, but the third has switch on the side and a curious pointed end; on further inspection, he deduces that it’s a miniature soldering iron. “What in…” He turns it over in his hands. “Is the next one a grenade pin?”

“Oh, now that’s an idea.” Enid beams brightly, and he falls in love with the gap between her front teeth all over again. “I’m too attached to my own head to try it, though.”

“So am I.” Heinrix slides the last pin out - thankfully, just another jeweled bauble - and runs his thumb along the edge of the braid til he finds its end. Carefully, he unwinds the braid from the knot, loosening the strands of the plait as he goes, combing his fingers through the rippling waves of copper that fall through his hands like ore in a forge-fire. The topknot comes loose, and he brushes her hair back towards himself, every handful of it thick and warm and impossibly soft.

She looks over her shoulder at him, her face now framed in fire, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Lying back on the bed, her hair fans out over the pillow as she slides open the buttons of her shirt. “Should we go again?”

He kneels over her, stroking a curl back from her temple and cupping her cheek, his cock already stirring to life again at the sight of her spread out and open and wanting. “As many times as you want.”

[jackels-in-space]

╔⏤╝MAKE A TRADE: PART 1╚⏤╗

Renata Glasc was a wanna-be Chem Baron and was becoming a pain in the ass for Silco's business. He sent Sevika to negotiate a deal to bring Glasc Industries and bring it to heel. Sevika didn't know what to expect but she didn't think it would lead to this...

Also posted on AO3 W.C: 3.7 Tags under cut off - no smut but still reference sex

Tags: Former Sex Worker!Sevika (it's just mentioned at the end), Shimmer strap, sex as part of business negotiations? Imma be real this is just yapping the smut happens in part 2. flirtation, top!renata, switch!sevika

Renata Glasc and her budding empire were situated in the deepest part of Zaun, spreading across the lowest levels capable of housing life. It meant that the Grey was prominent and anyone wanting to visit Glasc Industries had to have a high-quality respirator.

Sevika didn’t like wearing the masks. It felt too claustrophobic, making her skin itch and her heart rate spike now and then. Add in the thickness of the smog, the fact that she had to cover all of her skin because of the Grey and the tiny laneways of Old Zaun, Sevika was not having a good time.

Shrouded in permanent night, Glasc Industries was a toxic lighthouse in the dark, tubes of neon chems lighting the way to the main office. There were plenty of workers moving about, equally covered, masked and goggled up, and none stopped the Right Hand as she moved towards the heart of Zaun’s lowest industrial complex.

An outsider, like a Piltie, would have thought that the choice to go so low, so deep that you were almost touching bedrock, would be a detriment to business and yet, there it was strong, powerful, a testament to Glasc’s identity.

Sevika sighed, the noise being altered by the respirator as she pushed a door open with her glove covered hand. There must have been some sort of seal because it required a fair amount of effort to open it up and then…there was another door, just as heavy. Renata really was making an effort in deterring people from coming to her office.

The inside of the main building was less derelict than its outside but just as dark. The receptionist area had grey tiles darkened by pollution and age, the walls that were probably a lavish purple wallpaper now black, and any metal now an oxidised copper or tarnished iron. It was probably one of the nicer looking places down this deep, especially with the collection of noxious plants and tubes of circling chemicals.

“I’m here to see Glasc,” Sevika grumbled out, resting her arm on the countertop as she looked down at the receptionist.

The theory that there was a seal on the door must be correct as the receptionist, wearing a far more stylised mask, had her arms bare as she wore a short-sleeved, buttoned up shirt. There was a long coat hung up on a coat rack off to the side.

The little redhead looked up from her bookkeeping, her eyes widening slightly before nodding and putting her pencil down.

“Of course, Ms Sevika.”

She picked up a telephone, holding it with one hand to her ear as she quickly dialled in a number.

“Ma’am, Ms Sevika is here to see you,” the receptionist said efficiently, pausing as she waited for her boss’ answer. “Of course.”

The phone was put down and with the same hand, she indicated to a hallway on Sevika’s left.

“If you could take the elevator to the sixth floor, please. Her office isn’t hard to miss. Sorry I can’t show you, Ms Sevika. Someone’s got to man the desk.”

Her head jerked down to the table and Sevika quickly looked over and down. She huffed out a laugh, the noise rattling because of the respirator. Two guns sat in easy reach.

“Shit, you get a lot of trouble then?”

“Ain’t my place to say but uh…if you wouldn’t mind…could you bring it up with Ms Glasc?” the redhead asked and the twinge of the muscles under her eye implied a shy smile.

Sevika gave a non-commital grunt and nod of her head before walking over to the elevator. 

Renata Glasc wasn’t even a Chem-Baron but the power and technology she was amassing might as well have made her one and that…that was a threat. Glasc Industries was in partnership with Madame Margot and her Vyx’s before shimmer had been brought to market, the range of aerosolized chem’s being a key interest to the Rapture Walk. Why Silco hadn’t extended a hand of business to the woman, Sevika had no idea, because now Finn and Smeech were having a hissy fit of Renata’s exclusivity.

So, of course the best option was to just outsource their tech from Renata.

Sevika was here to make a deal as Ms Glasc had refused to go out to Silco and seeing the guns the receptionist had, the Right Hand could only assume that someone had been attacking her industry (probably the shitheads Finn and Smeech.)

The elevator dinged when she had reached the sixth floor and she slid open the protective grating. 

Renata was waiting for her, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She was as tall as Sevika, if not taller by a small, miniscule amount that Sevika would rather ignore. Her hair was black with two sections starting to become white at the roots already and her eyes had a semi-permanent pink ring around the pupil from shimmer usage (the drug had only been on the streets for a year so how much had this woman consumed?) A blue-black blazer was thrown over her shoulders in such a casual manner that had the Right Hand’s eyes twitching in suspicion; she was hiding something, probably a gun.

“Glasc,” she acknowledged, stepping out of the lift.

“It’s Miss Glasc,” the woman bit back, her mask adding a slight rumble.

“Mhm,” Sevika hummed out, not fazed by the biting correction.

Many people had tried to instate some sort of rank or title upon themselves and the only one that had managed to make it work was Margot but does Sevika call her madame? Fuck no. The only person that has earned her respect was Silco and as such he gets to be called ‘sir’ and ‘boss’.

“Not very polite, are you, dolly? Exactly what I expected from Silco’s little hound.”

Sevika had to momentarily look away and grind her teeth, biting back the urge to punch her. After a moment, she rolled her eyes back to Renata and shrugged, feigning boredom.

“We gon’ do business or not?”

Renata looked Sevika up and down, one of her eyebrows raising in appreciation before nodding and pushing off the wall. Her arms uncrossed themselves, and rested by her sides as she walked. The Right Hand’s eyes were immediately drawn to the industrialist's left arm. 

Talons that were similar to her own glinted in the artificial light. They looked cleaner, a silver metal instead of Sevika’s copper plating, and seemed to faintly glow with pink-purple chemicals.

“You got a good piece there,” pointed out Sevika, trying to suss out who Renata was.

Was she like Margot and Reni, where the odd compliment helped with negotiations?

Or is she like Finn and Sevika’s gonna have to beat her down as violence is the only language she speaks?

Maybe she’s like Chross and Smeech: opportunists?

Sevika followed her as they walked towards Renata’s office.

Renata took her blazer off, folding it over her right arm. It meant that her purple waistcoat and sleeveless shirt were shown off and that she had a complete prosthetic from shoulder to finhertips. There was a hint of burn scars on her shoulder blades peeking from the edges of the waistcoat. Sevika could imagine the now-healed wounds spanning across Renata’s torso. 

The industrialist flexed her bionic arm and the glow of shimmer became more prominent.

“Why, thank you. I’m sure you recognise the design?” 

The Right Hand did. It was very similar to hers. On instinct, Sevika rubbed her prosthetic over the poncho. It was a year and she still didn’t know how she felt about it.

Renata spotted the motion, her head tilted to the side to watch the other woman from the corner of her eye. 

“How’s it treating you, sugar?”

“It’s…fine…” Sevika gritted out, lying. 

It wasn’t fine and it seemed that Renata knew that, somehow. There was a pinch in the eyebrows and the respirator shifted as if she too was grinding her teeth. 

The other woman clicked her tongue as they entered her office, the noise sounding unnatural from the muffling effect of her mask.

“Sit down,” she instructed, indicating a pair of chairs in front of a solid looking desk. 

The trip down to the lower levels had admittedly taken it out of Sevika. The combination of reduced oxygen and excessive clothing having made her hot and bothered and not in a fun way either. She slumped down into the chair, legs splayed out and her head tilted back in exasperation. It was probably overly relaxed for a business deal but within the first few minutes of meeting, it seemed that Renata had some sort of respect for Sevika and honestly, vice versa. Perhaps it was the fact that both had lost their left arm, a tale that neither would explain to the other. 

Renata moved about, the clatter of tools making Sevika’s ears perk up. She was in the process of lifting her head when Renata, with such ballsy confidence, sat on the edge of her desk, one foot on the empty chair, the other between Sevika’s legs, the toe of her boot coming close to Sevika’s core. 

If Sevika was a lesser woman, she’d screech and cower away, demanding to know what game Renata was playing but she wasn’t; she knew what the other woman’s aim was. So, she raised her head and lifted an eyebrow, keeping her breathing and heart rate slow. 

Renata leant forward, her elbows resting on her thighs and Sevika spotted a screwdriver in her right hand. The respirator did make it hard to read Renata’s expression but the relaxed eyebrows and half-lidded eyes implied some sort of attraction. 

“Take your poncho off.” 

“Why?” Sevika replied, putting in an effort to sound indifferent. 

“I made that arm of yours. I want to see how it’s holding up.” 

“You…you made my arm?” 

“Silco didn’t tell you? Hmpf, funny that.”

Sevika didn’t say anything afterwards, reaching to unclasp her poncho and pulling it off. Immediately, the loss of the extra fabric started to cool Sevika down. She sighed in relief as she tossed the red cloak to the side. 

“You can take your respirator off too, doll.” 

The Right-Hand raised an eyebrow, suspicious. 

“I know what business you and Margot have, Glasc. I ain’t trusting you or your air.”

The industrialist merely rolled her eyes and reached up to take off her mask. It hissed slightly as the seal was broken. 

She was an attractive woman with the respirator on and she was stunning with it off. Her lips were full and a soft, dusty pink colour. There were smile lines, but they were more likely formed from smirks than actual smiles; Glasc didn’t seem the type to really smile. Sevika couldn’t help but watch the way her tongue darted out as she lifted the screwdriver to hold in her mouth.

The other woman’s eyes lit up with glee, or was it smugness, when she caught the brawler staring.

Janna, she’s as bad as Margot.

Renata shifted so she was nearly off the edge of the desk and reached for Sevika’s hand, lifting it with ease. Her hands were steady as Sevika relaxed her shoulder muscles, letting the arm be twisted around as much as the joints allowed it to. She was analysing the metal work.

Then, Renata tugged on the prosthetic, her body deceptive about how much strength she had. Sevika was pulled forward, near enough face planting into Renata’s chest if she hadn’t quickly placed her other hand on the desk, between the industrialists’ legs.

Yeah, definitely another Margot.

“What are you doin’?” Sevika demanded, trying to get her arm back when she looked up at Renata, the shimmer glow of her eyes was brighter. “How? There wasn’t enough time for you to knock some back…”

Sevika’s eyes widened when she saw part of Renata’s bionic arm raise up and fill up with sloshing shimmer, the pink-purple chem casting a glow on the sharp angle of the industrialists cheekbones. So, that’s how Renata had been consuming enough shimmer to cause the colour change but then…why wasn’t she sprouting tumours like the rest of the poor fucks that had been chugging the chem the moment it was for sale?

Whatever process that was happening was cancelled, the shimmer draining and the vial that had raised settle back into the main body of the arm.

“It’s a prototype I’ve been testin’, sweet cheeks,” Glasc stated after taking the screwdriver out of her mouth. “I know this arm intimately so there should be space to put in a distribution unit unless you want a whole new arm?”

“How much is that gonna cost me, Glasc, hm?”

“Well, with the tech Silco wants from me…” She paused, having located a screw in the shoulder platting of Sevika’s arm. “And this upgrade as well as the specialised shimmer for it…’bout three percent share in the business and two-hundred units of condensed shimmer a month?”

“Fuck off.” Sevika tried to pull out of Renata’s grasp, but the woman had found a way to disable Sevika’s arm and when the Right-Hand looked down, she saw the chems used to power her prosthetic dripping down her claws and onto the ground. “The fuck did you do?”

“Just unplugged a cable. Don’t worry, doll, when we’re done with making a deal, I’ll put it back together and reinstall the chems. Free of charge.”

“How generous of you,” Sevika gritted out, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

She was back to grinding her teeth, forced to be in proximity with someone more annoying than Finn and more fucking manipulative (and, admittedly, more attractive) than Margot.

“Mm, very generous,” Glasc purred. “I don’t do acts of charity. Only for pretty girls like you.”

Pretty isn’t the usual descriptor people used when talking about Sevika’s body; brutish, strong, even handsome were the usual words thrown about but never pretty. Not since she was younger, inexperienced about the world and doing a job so far from where was now.

It caught Sevika off guard.

“Fuck you,” she bit back, the only decent response she could come up with.

“You could though, I would prefer fucking you.”

The lecherous grin the industrialist wore felt both predatory and sinful. The tip of the screwdriver that had disabled Sevika’s arm was dragged up her neck, following covered glowing, blue scar tissue to her cheek. The slight sharpness of the tool combined with how sensitive the scar tissue was, it made Sevika shiver.

Her back momentarily arched and her jaw dropped for a moment as she hissed or groaned as the head of the driver pressed down on a sensitive area on the meat of her cheek, sending a spike of something through her body. She had managed to desensitise the brunt of her healed wounds, but her face and neck were the two areas she just…couldn’t bring herself to touch. The rest could be hidden away but those scars…

The other woman was watching, studying. Renata knew all too well the healing process of scar tissue, how impossible it felt to return to normalcy after the loss of a limb. Sevika’s long sleeved top made it hard to judge how much of her torso had been affected by whatever caused the blue spiderweb, but Renata assumed it was a fair amount.

Sevika was vulnerable, obviously touched starved (Renata was the same, spending years in isolation before letting someone touch her after the fire), and it was a vulnerability Glasc was going to take advantage of. Always thinking on her feet, Renata could switch up a plan. She was originally going to strong arm (metaphorically) into the deal she had mentioned but then…well…she didn’t expect the Right Hand of the Eye to be so fucking hot.

When Silco had contracted her to build an arm for his second-in-command, he hadn’t mentioned what or who Sevika was and because Finn decided to be a little bitch and attack her factories, Renata hadn’t had an opportunity to find Sevika and suss her out.

From rumours, Glasc knew the woman to be a loyal dog, willing to take control of situation. Janna’s tits, she did more of Silco’s work than Silco himself so that meant Sevika had a very interesting set of skills. Renata would need those later and thus the long-term benefits outweighed the immediate.

She smirked as she put the screwdriver down. The foot that was between Sevika’s legs (the entire position was just a slight tease of pleasure) moved as Renata used that leg to hook Sevika in. The industrialists mechanical hand dragged up Sevika’s arm, talons scratching through the long sleeve top as Renata made her way to grasp at the longer sections of Sevika’s hair. Her organic hand cupped the other woman’s scarred cheek, her thumb swiping across blue scars.

Sevika gasped again at the overstimulation, Renata’s leg only helping to deepen the arch. They were so close, just what Renata wanted.

“So pretty,” she murmured, angling her face down to brush their noses. “You’ve not let anyone touch you.”

This was about creating a biological connection, binding the two women together in hormones and emotions so that they had something to last them years.

“Glasc, what are you doing?” Sevika asked, justifiably suspicious.

They were so close that every moment of their lips could be felt.

“I want to offer a new deal.”

“Okay?”

Renata tightened her grip.

Sevika wasn’t a fool. This was a similar tactic Margot had used before and always failed.

“I have this prototype for the Rapturewalk that needs testing…help a girl out and I’ll settle for two percent and a hundred-fifty units every four weeks?”

Sevika rolled her eyes.

“You want me to fuck you just to get a better deal?”

“No, I want us to spend a good night together. The better deal is just me showing how generous I can be,” purred Glasc. “Besides, testing the shimmer strap with someone other than Margot will really piss her off.”

The air seemed to have left Sevika’s lungs as she pulled back as much as she could with Glasc’s grip on her.

“I’m sorry. The fucking what?”

-/-/-/-

Having her arm disabled was about as worse as not even having it on. She had to use her long sleeve shirt to tie it close to her torso, so it wasn’t swinging uselessly by her side. Even with her poncho on to cover it, those close to her had noticed it (and the fact she was only wearing her chest bandages and a ripped-up tank top) and tried to question her about it. She only waved them off as she headed up to Silco’s office.

Her boss immediately spotted the issue, turning his attention from reports he was reading to Sevika. His eye was getting worse.

“I take it Glasc Industries will be a problem?” he coldly asked, hands folding neatly on top of his desk.

Sevika slumped down on a couch, her legs splaying open.

“Glasc is a piece of work, but I managed to score a good deal for us.”

She twisted her neck, feeling it crack and release tension.

“And what does she want?”

“I managed to haggle it down to two percent share and seventy-five units of highly concentrated shimmer every three weeks.” Sevika leant forward, unbottling one of the finer quality liquors Silco had in his office and pouring a solid amount into two glasses. “In return, it’s what we agreed upon; Glasc handles most of any necessary technological development, and she gets to keep her business with Margot. I get my arm fixed up too even though the bitch was the one that fucked it up in the first place.”

As she was talking, she had stood up, using her fingers to carry the two glasses over to the desk. Silco accepts his with a nod, watching his Right Hand as she leans against the desk.

“Seems disproportionate…there’s something else, isn’t there, Sevika?”

He was taking a sip of his drink when Sevika spoke:

“I’ll meet her at Babbette’s in two hours and will be assisting her in developing her shimmer line of sex toys for Margot.”

Silco chokes. He tries to cover it up but the sting of small amounts of alcohol going into his airway caused him to cough. Sevika just looked down at him, finding a small amount of humour at seeing her usually stoic boss frazzled.

“You good, sir?”

Silco had put down the glass, rubbing at his throat and waving off her concern.

“I feel like I should be asking you that, Sevika.” Even in a moment of complete embarrassment, he still managed to sound like he always did; in control. “Are you comfortable with such a deal? If you aren't, I'm sure we can come up with something else.”

Sevika sighed and took another sip of her drink.

Admittedly, it had caught her very off guard, experiencing a flashback to the past when her father had died and she had nothing left, nothing to get her by as she rebuilt her life.

Sex was just sex to her, nothing special. Being a sex worker for half a year when she was eighteen wasn’t an issue and Babbette was probably the best person she could have been working for. Probably why, when Sevika and Renata had finished coming to an agreement about what would be happening, she had suggested booking a private room in the brothel.

Besides, since the accident…somehow it felt…nice that Renata wanted her. The industrialist understood the struggle of losing a limb and how much it fucks with everything going on in her head.

“Appreciate your concern, sir, but I’m fine with this.” She meant it. “I know it’s setting up for something down the line. Could’ve helped her with her Finn issue but she chose me instead. That implies she’s planning something and if getting into her bed means getting the drop on her in the future, then I’ll do it.”

“No-one can deny your loyalty to the cause, Sevika. If she causes you any trouble though, deal with it in whatever way you deem necessary; no matter what the clean-up will look like.” Silco raised his glass in a salute. “So, tell me about this Finn issue of hers.”

[cosmerelists]

Which Misting Should You Ask To Help With Each of Your Household Chores?

As requested by @actual22plus :)

So...you have Mistings as your roommates. When it comes time to set up that chore wheel, here is my advice as to who should handle what!

1. Dusting: Steel Misting (Coinshot)

You know how there are always those cobwebs high up on the ceiling that are difficult to reach? Well, that will no longer be a problem once a Coinshot handles your dusting! They'll be tossing coins on the floor and leaping high into the air, getting ALL of those hard to reach corners!

2. Vacuuming: Iron Misting (Lurcher)

You'll want your Lurcher to do the vacuuming, though--mostly because the carpet is now full of metal coins and the Lurcher should probably allomantically collect those before the vacuum cleaner breaks. Again.

3. Grocery Shopping: Pewter Misting (Thug)

You don't have to worry about being able to carry in all the groceries in one trip if a Thug is handling it! They'll carry all 11 of the shopping bags without breaking a sweat, even the one with the gallon of milk in it!

4. Dish Washing: Tin Misting (Tineye)

With their keen senses, a Tineye will make sure that the dishes are well and truly clean. They'll also replace the sponge. Like, a lot. You used to keep using the same sponge for at least three months, but the Tineye keeps saying that it "smells funny" and is "full of horrible bacteria." Well, they probably know best.

5. Laundry: Zinc Misting (Rioter)

Well...they don't exactly do the laundry. They help with laundry by standing by you as you put the clothes away, inflaming your emotions so that you temporarily care really hard about putting away laundry so that it doesn't feel like the worst thing in the world. W-Wait, did they just trick you into doing their chore?!

6. Answering the Door: Brass Misting (Soother)

Whether it's the HOA or that guy who keeps trying to convince you to switch to AT&T Fiber, it's always best to have the Soother answer the door to make the person calmly go away (if necessary).

7. Setting up the VPN: Copper Misting (Smoker)

Okay, so it's not the...biggest job, but a Smoker is all about security, right? Normally it's their job to hide allomantic pulses, so it only makes sense for them to also hide your illegal downloads, right?

8. General Cleanup: Bronze Misting (Seeker)

Try this: "There may not be allomantic pulses for you to sense right now, but I bet you can seek out all the stuff that hasn't been put away! Ha ha! Please put away your socks they've been under the table for three weeks."

9. Taking out the Trash: Aluminum Misting (Aluminum Gnat)

Try this: "You're good at wiping the internal reserves of someone's metal, and that's a lot like cleaning out the internal reserves of our trash can!" Then look them deeply in the eyes and say, "I, for one, don't think your power is useless!" Maybe then someone will take out the trash for once!

10. Wiping down Surfaces: Chromium Misting (Leecher)

Try this: "You're good at wiping the reserves of an external target, and I bet that makes you great at wiping down these dusty external surfaces with a damp rag!" Then look them deeply in the eyes and say, "I know you don't want to be a leech." Wait, don't say that. That sounds really insulting.

11. Catching the Bugs and Putting Them Outside: Duralumin Misting (Duralumin Gnat)

Try this: "As a Gnat, I bet you're really good at catching bugs by thinking like bugs! Ha ha! Anyway, can you please catch that centipede? It's been here so long we've taken to calling it Mr. Wiggles but it really should be free outside lest it crawl over our faces in the night." I'm sure your friend the Duralumin Gnat will just be glad to have a job...right?

12. Picking a Good Playlist: Nicrosil Misting (Nicroburst)

If there is one thing a Nicroburst is good at, it's giving other people an extra burst of allomantic energy! That's kind of like picking the cleaning playlist that will get everyone jazzed up for cleaning, right?

13. Cooking: Bendalloy Misting (Slider)

The worst part of cooking is that once you decide you want food, you then have to take some time and prepare it. Unless, of course, your Slider is doing it! Then the time between "Hey does anyone want tacos?" and having delicious tacos appear before you is no time at all! Brilliant!

14. Waiting for Package: Cadmium Misting (Pulser)

Have you ever been so desperate for your package to arrive that you would be willing to hang out with your friendly Pulser while time passes extra fast outside of your bubble--sure, maybe several days pass in the blink of an eye but at least you get your package faster! O-Oh? You've never been that desperate for package? Well, I'm sure we'll find something else for the Pulser to do! ...Dammit, I think we made the Pulser cry.

15. Shaming Roommates for Not Doing Their Chores: Gold Misting (Auger)

"Look at what might have been," whispers the Auger, appearing behind the Coinshot like a wraith, "If you had actually dusted last week." As the vision of the spotless apartment flashes before the Coinshot's eyes, they begin to weep. Never again will they forget to dust.

16. Assigning the Chores: Electrum Misting (Oracle)

"Due to my ability to see the future," the Oracle intones, "no one is better than me at choosing who will be best to do which chores."

Later you learn that burning electrum just allows this person to see the shadows of what a person is about to do...which isn't exactly like seeing the future...and also they didn't exactly assign themselves a chore...but by then it's too late.

Maybe living with sixteen individual Mistings was a mistake?

[an-egghead]

Welcome to me going insane about uu!Squiddo's armour going from netherite to diamond between season 1 and 2!

We know that after the mafia fell the server kept growing, where netherite and even diamonds have become a very scarse resource. It's definitely not uncommon for players to be running around in partially iron armour. HOWEVER, players who had netherite from before the player count rose so dramatically, should still have their old netherite, unless killed.

But, the mafia had a LOT of netherite. A lot of those players also died, their stuff lost to the void, but even more survived. Where did all that netherite go? Did the former mafia members get rid of their netherite armour, distancing themselves from the mafia, or did those players blend in with the crowd?

Then there's Squiddo. Squiddo most DEFINITELY had netherite armour. Possibly two sets, depending on if she kept their armour from before the mafia. But when we see them in season 2, Squiddo wears diamond. This confused me for a bit tbh cause Squiddo would have NO reason to get rid of their armour. As the only person left loyal to the mafia, she wouldn't have minded wearing mafia armour. Did they get robbed lol?

Squiddo's pre mafia armour being gone is fine, it's whatever, it's possible that it got recycled to help the mafia or something. However, the copper trim armour being gone is a different case. By all means Squiddo SHOULD still have netherite armour.

Except I've got a theory >:D

What if that armour went to Ash? In the very early episodes, Ash had armour, however as the episodes continued, Ash didn't wear his armour anymore, even in the finale. Did he even have armour anymore? Did he consider himself invulnerable as the leader of the mafia? That worked out well for him then.

It's well possible Ash didn't have any armour on him when fleeing Mafia city. As the former leader of the Mafia, he would have a LOT more targets on his back than Squiddo, who most people are probably on good terms with cause of the master builders and involvement in the resistance against the Mafia (where only Spoke really knows of Squiddo's betrayal).

Squiddo's netherite going to Ash, just switching out the trims, it would make sense. Squiddo then gets diamond armour, still strong, still protecting her, but their best armour goes to the guy most likely to be ambushed and attacked.

ANYWAY that's just getting my thoughts in a post cause I spent an embarrassing amount of time theorising before realising the armour could have gone to Ash!

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

Green Lantern SMP: Day 2

Day 1

As the sun rises over the island- which has been dubbed New Oa (much like the real one, this probably won't be the only time it gets trashed)- the Green Lanterns minus Jo take stock of their situation. They have two apples, five uncooked potatoes, and about a dozen wheat seeds, as well as some rotten flesh and bones. The island has been thoroughly deforested, but they do have several oak saplings. Most of their building blocks are gone, having been used in the construction of Hal's Watchtower that has since been reduced to a few sad floating blocks.

John decides that this embarrassment is unbefitting of the Green Lanterns of Earth and takes charge. Keli and Jessica have already begun replanting the devastated farm and using the bonemeal to grow crops, so he leaves them to this task and orders Kyle to light up the island and turn the cobblestone shelter into an actual house. There are plenty of cod swimming in the sea, so Hal and Simon are sent fishing. Guy does not seem to mind dying repeatedly, so he is assigned to explore the caves and find any ores.

Whilst everyone else is thus occupied, John switches to a web browser and begins looking up tutorials on how to build a mob spawner farm (Keli mentioned it was possible but didn't know how to make it herself).

The skeleton spawner is deactivated, but there are still plenty of hostile monsters in the caves when Guy ventures in. He dies no less than seventeen times before he finally finds a vein of iron ore. He is killed another five times before he emerges triumphant with half a dozen lumps of raw iron. Keli smelts these into ingots and crafts him a sword and shield. The deaths become far less frequent after this, and Guy returns with some more iron and a lot of copper. He is annoyed to learn that the latter cannot be used for tools or armor.

Hal and Simon don't actually have fishing rods, so they instead whack the fish with stone weapons. Hal frequently forgets that he needs to breathe and drowns several times. A Drowned starts chucking tridents at them, so the two of them flee "zombie Aquaman" and return to shore with a stack of cod.

By this point, Kyle has finished building a cozy farmhouse, as well as a fence around Jessica's garden. He thinks it's rather plain because he only had cobblestone and oak wood to build with, but everyone else thinks it's magnificent. Especially compared to Hal's "base" from yesterday.

John returns as night falls and begins directing Simon and Kyle to help him turn the skeleton spawner into a proper farm. Jessica opts to stay topside and cook the fish, while the rest of the Lanterns continue exploring the cave network below New Oa. It's an unusually large and complex web, and Hal dies almost as many times as Guy did earlier. He does however, discover a mineshaft...

[wafflexdguy]

Murder Drones | Platonic Doll Oneshot

PLATONIC Doll x Traumatized!Male!Reader

Requested by Youllneverknowmynam3, thank you!

The reader identifies as male, but since the POV isn't 3rd person, you probably won't notice.

CW! Gore(?)

This is more different than what I usually write, this is because I wanted to change up how I wrote trauma fics.

-------------------------------------------------------------

You knew that it wasn't a good idea from the start, but somehow they convinced you to go through with it anyway. Your (ex)friends convinced you that there weren't anything on the other side of the door, that the murder drones weren't real.

You were naive. Stupid. You wished you knew better.

But you didn't.

And there you went, into the cold, desolate winter hellhole that was Copper-9. Or what was left of it. Quite frankly, you didn't expect it to look that bad. You had learned about it in class about the history of Copper-9, about how humans basically fucked up something with the core, and that it collapsed because of their own incompetence.

And that leads to the murder drones landing here, because the company that owned Copper-9 didn't like having their ex-slaves free.

Your friends led the way. They weren't that much older than you, but you assumed that they knew better because they were older than you. You went exploring, like those cool cave explorers you saw from those pirated human shows. You thought they were cool.

You didn't even have time to blink as one of the murder drones landed right in front of you.

By all accounts, you should have died. But you didn't.

It stabbed you straight in the chest, barely missing your core by millimeters. It threw you into a window into one of the abandoned buildings. You were still busy trying to process what was happening as the screams from your former friends rang out throughout the city, followed by sadistic laughter.

By the time reality set in, it was already too late. You sat up and went over to the window, trying your best to stay out of sight, pray that it forgot about you; that it wouldn't realize that you were there.

That image never really left your mind, even after so many years.

That 'FATAL ERROR' on their screen, with their mouth wide open in horror didn't leave your mind at all that night. And seeing the murder drone holding one of their bodies up, draining the oil from the mutilated body. Your eyes had hollowed out seeing the gruesome sight, but you somehow managed to keep your breathing steady, and stayed calm as you possibly could in that kind of situation.

By the time it got its fill, you had already retreated from the window and hid behind whatever you could.

It didn't forget about you, but after taking one scan across the room it had thrown you in, it decided you weren't worth the effort.

And it flew off.

Leaving you to deal with the consequences.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up, like per usual. Back into your plain old room, with nothing really there.

You usually had a laptop nearby, but someone had to borrow it for some reason. In her words, it was to 'track down a special someone,' whatever that meant. You inquired it with her, but she just denied telling you anything about it. It annoyed you, but you didn't complain about it directly to her face.

You and Doll had met through ironically unique circumstances. She was interestingly more outgoing than you were, which showed when you were paired with her in a class project. Usually, she would have hung out with Lizzy during school projects, but the teacher -for some reason- decided to switch things up with the grouping and sat you two together.

You were initially offput with her, because she was the quiet type. Really creepy when she came over to your house to work on the project with you.

Maybe it was out of curiosity, or just out of pity with your slightly disheveled form, but she decided to try and warm up to you. You knew what she was trying to do, but your parents had basically 'forced' you to try and make new friends, so you gave it a shot.

After that, you found that you had a lot in common. Ranging from weird ritualistic things, to just hanging out and enjoying each other's company. She fed into your fragile ego, which had already been shattered forty times over, but she still fed it. Usually to make you feel better if you're having a really bad day. Your parents basically considered you two peas in a pod.

She was a really good friend; you appreciated her for just being there for you.

Her mother was really cool too, typically letting you two do whatever you wanted while you were over there. Not like your parents, who after seeing you after what happened didn't let you do anything without adult supervision. You hated being treated like a kid, even after all these years later, but not much you could do about it.

You never really figured out what happened to her. All that Doll told you was that there was an accident, and she isn't really liking it over her house as much anymore. You wanted to inquire more about it, but when she was talking to you about it, she was tripping over her words and shaking a lot too.

You've seen that before. You don't ever want to see it again.

You assumed the worst.

That was all about a few years ago. You never said a word to her about what happened to you, not fully and you don't think you will. Not yet anyways.

It felt unfair, it was selfish of you to do that to her, especially after everything you two have been through. But she weirdly seemed to understand, especially after that night she approached you, telling you what happened.

It didn't reassure you when you saw the same murder drone that killed your friends show up for a second time. When Uzi let them in.

The worst part was that it didn't recognize you. The very same drone that ruined your life didn't even know you.

You weren't sure if you felt anything by that or not. Didn't really matter anyway, since it had its ass handed to her by its own teammates.

And that leads you to the present. In your room, still juggling with whether or not you should get out of bed, whether or not you really wanted to. Your parents weren't usually around anymore anyway, typically out on business trips around the very small bunker, but it's still there.

'You have to grow up, get past what happened,' they said. Easy for them to say, they weren't there.

Unfortunately, you didn't have a choice as a knock on your door immediately ruined your mood.

"Not right nowwww...." You whined. You heard another knock at your door, and you immediately knew who it was. She was usually unnecessarily stubborn.

"Go away Doll-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, the door had opened, revealing who you already knew who it was. She had something in your hands that you couldn't make out due to the sudden flash of light.

Probably helps to mention that you were an older model of Worker Drones. You were painfully aware of that as the sudden flash of light nearly makes your systems reboot.

"Dammit Doll, I told you not to do that!" You yelled, to only receive a lighthearted giggle. She walked over to you, setting down the item in her hands that turned out to be the laptop you had lended to her.

She sat next to you in your bed as you sat up, rubbing your visor. "И я сказал тебе больше не спать допоздна. (And I've told you to not sleep in late anymore.)"

You shoved her lightly in the shoulder. "What are you, my mom?" You joked, to which she only let out another giggle.

She opened up the laptop and lifted her hand up shifting it into a gesture, and a glyph appeared. Suddenly, one of the USB drives came shooting out from one of your drawers, to which she grabbed and handed another end to you.

You knew this was necessary, but you really didn't want to do it. "Do we really have to keep doing this?" You groaned, to which she nodded.

"Мы занимаемся этим уже много лет, Т/и. (We've been doing this for years, Y/n.)" She pointed out, which you already knew. That just didn't make it any easier.

Reluctantly, you reached to grab the USB and plugged it into your head, and immediately you heard clicking coming from the laptop.

What she was doing was basically installing code that was basically the human equivalent of human anti-depressants. You didn't deem it necessary, your dad did. You loved the guy like family, but he can be really unbearable sometimes. You were fine.

You were fine.

"Сделанный. (Done.)" Doll pulled the USB plug out of the laptop, as you did the same to your head. You didn't like the feeling of being broken. Doll knew that as she pats you on the back for comfort. You didn't respond, just sitting there stewing in your own depression and pity.

Doll took notice of this as she snaps her fingers in front of your face to grab your attention. You turn to her, seeing her slightly worried expression.

"ты в порядке? (Are you okay?)"

You shrugged. You felt fine physically, you felt shitty emotionally. "Yeah, just... Had a nightmare."

She hums as she sits up from your bed. "Я могу это понять. (I can relate.)" She offers you a hand, to which you accept. You grabbed your backpack from next to your bed and walked out with Doll, who was on her phone texting someone. Likely Lizzy.

"She say anything after your fight?" You question.

Doll had recently gotten into a petty fight with Lizzy -who you knew absolutely had a crush on Doll- about her spending much more time with you than her. You were just kind of there sitting awkwardly on the side. Doll has tried to apologize, but to no avail. Lizzy was always kind of a brat, which you feel like only you knew. Doll seemed somewhat oblivious to it, or at the very least, really good at hiding it.

She shakes her head as she puts her phone away. "Я могу это понять. (No, she's still ghosting me.)" She shakes her head as she thinks. "Я даже не знаю, что я сделала не так! Она мелочная, я думаю. (I don't even know what I did wrong! She's being petty, I think.)"

You shrug. "That doesn't surprise me. She's been petty in the past."

"Да, но прошло уже несколько дней. (Yeah, but it's been a few days.)" She digs around in her pocket to fetch her phone again. "Она сказала, что поговорит со мной, если это будет связано только с планом. (She said she'll talk to me if it's only related to the plan.)"

"What plan?"

She nearly chokes on her own spit when she realizes what she just said. "Ничего. Забудь, что я только что сказал. (It's nothing. Forget what I just said.)" She gives her best 'sweet' smile towards you.

You tilted your head but decided not to question it any further. You figured it wasn't anything important.

"...How're you doing?" You asked, looking to Doll. She tilted her head, confused to what you meant as she lets out a small hum. "After the whole... break in."

It clicks to her on what you meant as she rubs her arm discretely. "Бывало и лучше. Но это я должен был спросить тебя. (I've been better. But I should be asking you that.)"

You look down.

And you can see oil.

Your brought back to the same place. Every. Time. You're asked that question.

This is your fault.

You should have stopped them.

You idiot.

"I don't know." You answer honestly. For once you answered honestly about that.

'Хорошо...' she mumbles to herself. She decides to take a risk.

"Это было связано с вашим кошмаром? (Was it related to your nightmare?)"

You felt your body tense a little bit. It couldn't hurt to at least talk a little about it.

"...I got lost." You started. "In the city, outside the doors?" She hums. "And... I couldn't find a way back. I had this sense of dread to where if I screamed, I was going to die, or worse."

You fell silent after that. You continued walking to class.

Doll processes this as she thinks to herself. It was clear that you were outside the doors, for what, she'll probably never know. She pats your back as she changes the topic, deciding not to pry further.

"А как насчет выпускного вечера? Ты уже выбрала, с кем хочешь пойти? (How about the prom coming up? You choose anyone you want to go out with yet?" She asks, giving a sly look towards you direction. You snap out of whatever daze you were in as you look towards her.

"Eh, not really. I don't think I'll go out with anyone this year, really. You?"

She looks forward, thoughtful.

"...Я хотел спросить Lizzy, но не думаю, что она за��очет. (I wanted to ask Lizzy, but I don't think she wants to.)"

You chuckle. "You kidding? That girl has had a crush on you since she was 10. You could probably say a word about it and she'll accept it."

A blush creeps a way on her screen as she punches your shoulder lightly. "Не произносите этого вслух! (Don't say that out loud!)" You continue laughing lightly as you two finally make your way to class.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is this really a good idea?" You question to your friend. Your other friend put a hand on your shoulder.

"Relax, there's no way the adults are being serious about the murder drones. I mean, the planet blew up! there's no way they could have survived that!" They exclaim, pumping their fist in the air.

"We survived." You pointed out.

"Then we're stronger than them! Come on, you aren't scared, are you?" Your other friend asked, to which you furiously shook your head.

"Of course not! I'm just... Unsure."

"So your scared?"

"S-shut up!"

"Relax, Y/n. If anything happens, the big kids are here to protect you. You trust us, right?"

...Did you?

"Uh... Yeah! Of course."

That was a lie.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Class took way too long to complete this time. Especially after Uzi wouldn't stop groaning the entire time about something, which you couldn't hear over her. It ticked you off, but you didn't do anything about it. Doll didn't acknowledge it, notably. Nobody else did, which didn't surprise you.

You felt singled out in your own mind, it was slightly embarrassing. But, nonetheless, you press forward.

Class was... Interesting. To say the least. Doll had to leave early with Lizzy, for some random reason. It was really rushed on how it all went; you didn't really have time to process what the hell happened, but Doll said she should be around for the Prom tonight. You didn't want to go to the prom, and interestingly, neither did Doll.

Your parents are forcing you to go. 'You need to socialize!' So they say. It's fair, but you really didn't want to do it. Not because you were anti-social, although that was certainly a factor, it was because you had this overwhelming gut feeling that something was going to go wrong.

You're practically forced to go. Regrettably.

At least you'll have Doll there to keep you company.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

You rubbed your arm nervously, peaking around every corner. Your friends saw you doing this as one shoved you lightly.

"Relax, N/n, you'll be fine. You need to stop worrying so much." Your friend reassured to which you didn't feel very reassured. You felt more threatened than anything. The atmosphere was extremely tense. You didn't like it.

You hated this feeling. The feeling of being helpless. You had your friends to help you in case things went awry, but even then, there's only so much that they could do if things went wrong. You regret this. You shouldn't have gone out here.

Your friend nudged you.

"Hey, N/n, relax, nothin's gonna ha-"

"Shush." You blurted out.

You heard something cracking. Sounded like glass, sounded like something moving.

The others didn't seem to hear it. You figured as much, these guys were good hunters. You had to give them credit for that if nothing else. Stealthy, crafty, murdery. All traits that are not good with the last one. Especially for you and your friends.

"I hate it here. I really hate it here." You voice. The others look at each other for a split moment before looking back at you.

Your friend sighed. "Yeah, I guess this was a bad idea." They said. "Yeah, we should probably go. Our parents are probably going to be worried about us if we stay out for too long." The other concurred. With all in agreement, you started to go back the way you came.

Unfortunately, someone didn't want you to go back.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The blaring music, the crowded nature of the place, everything about this made you slightly uncomfortable. You saw people drop dead right in front of you because they drank the fruit punch, which obviously isn't good for worker drones. Honestly, it was really confusing on how the ignored the signs.

Another thing was that you saw Lizzy on the stage, just kind of waiting around for something. She was on her phone, texting the entire time. It was par for the course for her. It didn't surprise you, not one bit. You figured she was texting Doll, or some of her other goons that you didn't care for.

You didn't like how you were just sitting around, twiddling your thumbs like a total loser. You had no way of conversating with anyone, Doll hasn't shown up yet, and you feel like a loser.

You tap your finger against your arm as you consider just ditching the entire place in general. It's not like you had any real reason to be here. You didn't know anyone here, you weren't really looking to make any friends right now, and not to mention that you were forced here.

Forced being a loose term.

"Бу."

You jump at the sudden loud noise close to your audio receptor, immediately snapping your head to the source of the noise, only to see your red eyed companion. Sitting there with an innocent smile as she waves at you.

You felt petty anger boiling up inside of you.

"Doll."

She hums.

"Could you not do that every time I'm off my guard?"

"Нет."

You sit in silence, glaring at Doll while she just stares at you back. She doesn't do anything, both of you waiting for the other to break the silence. It was a super unnecessary standoff. Eventually, Doll is the one to break the silence, ignoring the loud prom music.

"Я не думал, что ты действительно появишься. (I didn't think you'd actually show up.)" She casually mentions, to which you shrug, your previous anger having dissipated completely.

"Yeah, well; not like I really had a choice." You wave off. "'Sides, couldn't let you have all the fun by yourself, right?"

What you expected didn't happen as she looks down, seemingly concerned or worried, you couldn't tell. You reached out a hand towards her, touching her shoulder.

"Hey, everything okay?" You question, to which she sheepishly nods.

"Да, просто... (Yeah, Just...)" She seemed to lose herself in the moment. She looked at you, then the stage. Which notably had a giant 'X' in the edge of it. You didn't even notice it before until Doll glanced at it.

"Doll? What's go-"

You were suddenly interrupted by someone on a microphone, which was Lizzy, standing there with a hand on her hip.

"Okay, listen up nerds." She announced, leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth already. "We're doing this a little early-"

"Т/и." Doll grabbed your attention away from the entitled bitch. "Послушай меня, (Listen to me,)"

You look at Doll, confused and frightened at her sudden shift in tone. Urgency, you've seen it before.

"Вам нужно- (You need to-)"

"This..."

...

You honestly weren't sure what you were expecting. But Lizzy bringing in a murder drone, especially after what had happened definitely caught you off guard. As for you, in the present moment. You shot back into the wall where you had initially been situated, hand clutched to chest, trying to process what the hell Lizzy was doing.

She wasn't doing anything intelligent, that's for sure.

The thing that was right behind her crept up behind Lizzy as everyone in the auditorium started to panic. Justifiably, people started heading for the exit, but Lizzy stopped them before they really hit it, except for one in a mustache.

You had mostly tuned everything out, just staring in horror at the sight in front of you. The same murder drone that had ruined your life had showed up for the third time. You were starting to get sick of it, you just wanted to live in peace.

Of course, you could never get that lucky. Right?

"Черт возьми, Lizzy, зачем ты... (Dammit, Lizzy, why would you...)" Doll turned her attention to you. "Т/И, уйди с дороги и скройся из виду. (Y/n, get out of the way and get out of sight.)"

You didn't have to be told twice, considering you weren't the one with spoopy magical powers. Doll started to walk over to the middle of the crowd, to which you lost her in the crowd.

You felt like you were going to be sick. Ironic, since you couldn't really feel sick.

-----------------------------------------------------

Someone had knocked on the door. Confused, your parents went to go open it, only to find Doll standing there.

"Oh, greetings young lady," Your dad greeted. "what brings you here at this hour?"

"...Могу ли я поговорить с Т/И? (May I speak to Y/n?)" She nervously asked, to which your father accepted. "Of course, come inside! Y/n, your friend is here!"

You had opened the door from your bedroom, only to see Doll there, disheveled, more than what you had ever been. You immediately noticed the difference, while you dad hadn't. She did typically look at least somewhat disheveled all the time, usually with messy hair. This time was different though, you could tell.

Her dress had looked slightly torn up, hair messier than usual, that look in her eye. You knew what that look was.

The feeling of being empty.

"U-uh, hey Doll." You greeted as she approached you. "You need something?"

"Можем ли мы поговорить наедине? (Can we speak in private?)" You nodded, unblocking yourself away from your bedroom door and allowing her entry. You thought about just not doing it, because you had your own issues to deal with. You didn't need to deal with hers.

That's selfish.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

Your trauma doesn't matter right now, your friend needs you. Don't abandon her like you did with them.

Both of you sat on your bed, not breaking the silence. You were waiting for her to say something, but nothing came out. She was just kind of sitting there, expression blank with nothing coming out. Nothing.

It confused you. You knew you weren't particularly chatty either when what happened happened, but this is a whole different level than what you were expecting. Maybe you were still being selfish. You didn't know, but all you knew was that your friend was hurting. You needed to help her.

"Ее больше нет... (She's gone...)" She managed to whimper out. She had her hands folded in her lap, still looking blankly at the ground. You didn't know what that meant. Who's she? You didn't inquire further as it seemed like a sensitive topic.

"Are you okay?" You questioned. Doll only shook her head in response, which kind of confirmed your suspicions.

You didn't know how to deal with this, you were just a kid.

You both were just kids.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The fight that just took place in front of you... You couldn't believe your eyes.

You had no love for the murder drones, and you couldn't help but cheer Doll on from the sidelines as she ensnared V (that's what you heard Doll refer to her as, anyway) and took down the metal ceiling fans, and launched them towards V.

Everything after that was a blur. But you knew Doll was starting to lose, because she had just gotten launched back by Uzi, who kicked her back. Your breathing hitched as you saw yellow approach doll from behind.

...And point a gun right at her head.

Without a second thought, you bolted towards V.

"Doll, move-!"

Doll turned around just in time to see you push V's gun out of the way. In turn, you got a nanite tail straight to the eye. Doll breathing grew erattic as she grabbed a table with her glyph and immediately launched towards V, who wasn't expecting to receive table.

You felt arms wrap around you as the world seemed to shift around you. All you saw was red glitches before your system finally gave way and you passed out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Too be continued, probably.

[conkreetmonkey]

Bug was sent to your door for trick or treating

For the second day in a row, a figure was standing before the old submarine-style bulkhead, and once again it announced itself with a knock, what would have been a loud, hollow clang muffled by a thick pair of dark brown gloves, resulting in a dull metallic clunk.

"Trick or treat!" a rough yet polite voice called out in an enthusiastic yet contained half-shout, as if trying to make up for the weak knock but not wanting to full-on yell.

This visitor, unlike the last person to knock on that door, was not looking around confused, nor was it unsure of how it got there. It had come to the old door willingly, its trick or treating intentional rather than being commited in some sort of hazy fugue state. Indeed, this person was much unlike the last, not only in behaviour but in appearance as well, not looking at all out of place in the dimly-lit concrete hallway clad in crumbling institutional tiles, foul green slime accumulating under leaking iron pipes that snaked up and down the walls like metal ivy.

In other words, the creature standing there looked like a freaky-ass mad scientist.

It stood with its heavy-gloved hands behind its back, legs straight and chest forward with a polite grin that would have been charming if its teeth didn't look like it routinely gargled with pesto. Its broad, stout frame was clad in some sort of boxy lab jacket which hung down to its knees, made from a thick material coloured in a dull, unpleasant off-yellow reminiscent of creamed corn or rotten old wallpaper glue. Splatters of snot green something-or-other clung to its scuffed surface, long since having dried into rubbery, crusted-on stains. The jackets black buttons were fastened up to the top, a large circular collar snugly obscuring the wearers entire neck. Its sleeves were tucked into the gloves, and baggy canvas pants of army green were tucked into a heavy pair of brown leather work boots. No skin was showing below the chin, and the thick, loose-fitting nature of the entire outfit made it hard to discern much about the body underneath, aside from it being of a short and stocky sort. Its stature communicated confidence, intelligence and poise.

The thing inhabiting the outfit, of course, was a complete fucking freak.

Olive green skin clashed against ginger hair, sitting dry and frizzy against the back of the neck in a shoulder-length side part and growing on the face in thick yet uneven patches. Acne pocked the orcish humanoid's face, red pimples clashing against the earthy green and copper. The eyes were obscured behind opaque black welding goggles that rested atop a large nose and were fastened with a grey strap. With a broad rounded jaw, short forehead and prominent canines, the being simultaneously looked like a mutant created in a lab and like he created mutants in a lab, and would have looked just as natural being the monster strapped to a metal platform as it would being the mad doctor who flipped the switch, bringing the monster to life.

This goblin-like creature, reeking of formaldehyde and burning rubber, stood patiently just outside the metal door, its eyes lighting up with excitement as the valve in the center began to turn. With a series of mechanical squeaks and the creak of metal hinges, the door slowly slid open, revealing a familiar freak with wild pink hair and skin the colour of a spent fuel pool. Fitting, since he was munching on a stick of enriched uranium like it was a cucumber, glowing crumbs of neon yellow clinging to his lips as his face lit up with the joy of seeing a friend.

"Eh, Bugbug! Happy Halloween!" the blue thing said, wiping dangerously radioactive flecks of pure cancer onto his shirt with his hands, it lifting to reveal a definitionless belly with a slight nuclear glow shining through it from the inside, murky shadows of anomalous organs briefly visible before a curtain of thick green fabric obscured it once more. "It's not often you come to my door looking for a tasty treat!" he joked with a slight chuckle, the entire inside of his mouth stained flourescent highlighter yellow. Bug was less than amused, but it held its tongue. It and he both knew that it just couldn't stay mad at the little scamp, no matter how often he broke into its lab to slurp radioactive waste from sealed nuclear barrels, chug unattended beakers of biohazardous ooze, or munch on Bug's secret stash of yellowcake briquettes. The guy had a good heart, it knew, and as often as Bug grabbed him by his shirt collar to scream obscenities in his face and threw test tubes at him, it knew he was just a silly little guy, a lovable goober particularly prone to the toxic munchies, and its furious reactions were all in good fun, a slapstick game of cat and mouse that they both enjoyed.

Or at least that's what the blue thing believed. It was possible that Bug felt different, but he wouldn't know. He'd just assumed Bug hadn't really meant any of it, and fully anticipated his little snack seshies.

Pinching its nose, Bug took a deep breath and regained its happy expression. It was trick or treating, and it was out here to have fun; no use thinking about all the locks it still had to replace. "Happy Halloween, Conky!" it said, its cheery grin truly genuine. "Ah, hold on, I've got just the thing for you!" Conky said, holding up one finger as he reached behind the door, set his fuel rod down on something, and grabbed something else, plopping it down in Bug's hand with an excited grin.

It was a single breakfast sausage, cooked but cold, with little bits of dirt stuck to it.

"Happy Halloween!" Conky said, before pulling his door shut and turning the valve from the inside, leaving Bug alone in the gloomy little concrete box that Conky called his front doorstep.

After staring at its small greasy "prize" for a few moments, Bug started back up the stairs.

[prescriptionfiction]

            This is my favorite series of all time. I don’t say that lightly. I’m not exaggerating, lying, paid by the author, or faking it. This is my favorite book series. Out of all of the series I’ve read, this is it. So take this review with a grain of salt.

            The book, Cradle, follows a young man named Lindon, as he forges his own path through the Sacred Arts after being essentially treated as a major source of shame by his family. See, the magic system is pretty unique to western novels. It definitely draws a lot of inspiration from Wuxia, or the Chinese sword fantasy genre. Everything in the world is filled with Madra, the vital essence of existence itself. Fancy words but it all just boils down this: Madra is pretty much just mana. Fire Madra is the magical embodiment of fire. Fire-affinitied sacred artists can throw fire madra around like fireballs, burn stuff, you get the picture.

People follow a “Path” to practice the Sacred Arts, basically the techniques they practice and the madra they use. Simple enough. The real component that separates this from normal fantasy is that getting more powerful is a semi-linear path. Sacred Artists progress in stages, which denotes roughly how powerful they are and what advanced arts they can wield. A child with only pure, unaffiliated madra starts at the Foundation stage, then progresses to Copper, then Iron, Jade, etc. etc. This is a staple feature in progression novels and serves to be a very tangible method of scaling the characters. There’s a real sense of satisfaction to see characters grow measurably more powerful instead of just gaining some abstract abilities or whatever.

            The premise of the first book is pretty simple: Lindon is a resident of Sacred Valley, a large, secluded valley in the shadow of several mountains. No one comes in or out since the outside is overrun with terrible dangers, monsters, stuff like that. The valley is inhabited by 3 major factions, a few scattered people living alone in the wilderness, and several schools (sects) of the sacred arts on nearby mountaintops. Lindon was born into the Wei clan with next to no madra affinity, essentially meaning that it would take many resources (pills/elixirs/etc.) to boost his growth to that of a normal child’s, resources his clan doesn’t want to spend when they could use them to boost a normal child. Even his own parents see him as worthless at this point, forever doomed to be a source of shame to their family.

            I won’t go into much more detail than that for obvious reasons. I can say, though, the progression in this series is phenomenal. With character power progression, authors can fall into several types of pitfalls. If they make the character too weak or unimpactful, the reader gets bored. If they boost the character’s progression too much or too quickly, the conflict loses a lot of meaning and it overall just feels unearned, unrealistic, and just… easy. If the author mismatches two character’s power levels, it feels cheap and fake. For example, if an average city guard single-handedly fights off a dragon, you don’t really believe it, ya know? The power progression in this book is masterfully done. To keep things moving along, characters are given boosts outside of the norm but it never feels unearned or unrealistic. The gradual climb up the path is incredibly satisfying as a result.

            The characters are the final selling point before I quit rambling. The story occasionally switches perspectives, which is nice since it allows us to connect much more with the side characters. Everyone feels real and well thought out. They have goals, ambitions, hate, love, and more, and it shows. They feel believable and easy to connect with.

            Overall, I’m not even going to pretend this is an unbiased review. I really love this series, full stop. It has some issues but nothing can bring it down from the easiest 5-star rating I’ve ever given. Give it a shot. If you think it’s too slow, give it a while longer. It’s worth it, trust me.

[mythologyfolklore]

JTTW/Chinese mythology ideas

(A/N: Decided to finally make a list for this one too. Do these things make sense? No. Is it in any way close to canon? Also no. Will that stop me? Absolutely not. Also, I would like to establish that not all (or even most) of these are headcanons. Some are heartcanons, gutcanons, junkcanons and spleencanons. This list will be expanded, as I think of new ideas. Just keep in mind, that pretty much all of this is pulled out of my butt.)

1. Sūn Wùkōng has a slightly scratchy voice from five-hundred years of being fed molten copper and iron pellets, as well as the previous 49 mortal years of being cooked in a furnace.

2. Tripitaka is traumatised from his mother's suicide, his first two companions' deaths and the constant kidnapping and attempted murder and/or sexual harassment. After so much trauma and with having to parent several powerful and crazy demons and a dragon, he's become jaded.

3. Tripitaka was eighteen, when he learned of his family, and twenty, when he was recruited by Guān Yīn.

4. Sūn Wùkōng is a little self conscious about his body, since he was cooked in the furnace and pressed under the mountain and burned by Hóng Hái'er's True Samadhi Fire. To his subjects he's still the Handsome Monkey King though.

5. After being exposed, Liù'ěr Míhóu was given the option by the Buddha to either join the Tang Monk on the Journey along with the other disciples or be reincarnated into hell for his crimes. He chose the former. Tripitaka gave him the Dharma name Sūn Wùhuàn, though the others sometimes still call him Liù'ěr Míhóu (that's just Chinese for "Six-Eared Macaque").

6. Liù'ěr Míhóu is transgender with body dysphoria. He's absolutely miserable with his female body, but he can't hide it without shapeshifting, as his voice gives him away. He's also prone to delusions and dissociation by the time he joins the Journey. It doesn't get much better, but the other pilgrims learn to deal with it relatively quickly.

7. Èrláng Shén is transgender as well, but he goes to great lengths to hide, that his body is biologically female. Not because he has dysphoria (he doesn't), but because he hates the way he's treated by most people once they find out he's trans-masc. That and he can't stand people looking at his chest, when it's unbound.

8. Shā Wùjìng is super affectionate to his brothers and master. The affection is reciprocated, because they love their friendly, sensible formerly-maneating giant fish man.

9. Liù'ěr Míhóu has been sexually assaulted and forcibly impregnated many times in the past. Of the resulting children only one was allowed to live, because the Macaque either miscarried or aborted the rest. It's also a primary cause of his madness.

10. The surviving child (a monkey-fox hybrid) was left in the care of a significantly more sane friend, who happened to be the sister of one of the Wŭdàxiān.

11. Some primate species eat their dead in times of famine. The Six-Eared Macaque uses that as an excuse for eating that one dead monkey. Sūn Wùkōng and Tripitaka are having none of that bs.

12. Bái Lóng Mă is the first of the Pilgrims to befriend the Six-Eared Macaque and then becomes super protective, after he finds out what happened to him. In kind he becomes the Macaque's favourite brother.

13. Sūn Wùkōng is asexual demiromantic. Tripitaka and Liù'ěr Míhóu are both aro-ace. Zhū Bājiè is a straight ally. Shā Wùjìng is pan, but abstinent. Bái Lóng Mă is bi.

14. At first Tripitaka was delighted about having been one of the disiples of the Buddha Himself once. But after being the 10th reincarnation of Golden Cicada has gotten him into so much trouble, he's grown to hate it and loathes being addressed as "Golden Cicada".

15. Before Golden Cicada converted to Buddhism, they were an immortal cicada spirit, who had cultivated immortality under Yùdĭng Zhēnrén. They were a senior disciple, when the Yáng siblings showed up and quickly befriended the two.

16. Golden Cicada can switch from picture perfect Buddhist disciple to sassy spirit willing to throw hands. When they were a Taoist disciple under Yùdĭng Zhēnrén, they'd also sometimes chirp all night, just to annoy the younger disciples.

17. Golden Cicada had the ability to see the future. As such they weren't shocked to be sentenced to reincarnation by the Buddha for their disrespect, but it still hit them hard, because just like in the old school, they had grown attached to the other disciples and their master.

18. The Buddha has a lot of patience, but he takes no shit.

19. When Tripitaka becomes the Buddha of Sandalwood Merit, he regains all the memories from his past lives, including that of Golden Cicada. He also (re)gains the ability to shapeshift and fly and develops a few quirks Golden Cicada had in life.

20. Zhū Bājiè is still a little butt-hurt about becoming "only" an altar cleanser- Pff, nah, just kidding, he's fine. He's more upset, that he still looks like a boar.

21. Zhū Bājiè still flirts with women, but by now he has internalised the benefits of mutual consent.

22. Shā Wùjìng becomes the Golden-Bodied Arhat at the end of the novel, but decides to keep his demonic appearance most of the time, so he will never forget where he came from and as a reminder to be humble. His brothers still call him "Old Shā" or "Wùjìng".

23. Despite redeeming himself and becoming an Arhat, Shā Wùjìng is still shunned by the Celestial Realm. He is a bit sad about still being treated as a monster, but has long concluded, that this is just their pride talking.

24. Shā Wùjìng is still a capable fighter, but he's uncomfortable around swords. The reason is that, before he became a Buddhist, one of his punishments from Heaven involved being stabbed by a hundred swords every day, if he didn't stay in his river.

25. Bái Lóng Mă becomes a Golden Celestial Dragon of the Eight Classes of Supernatural Beings, but the others just affectionately call him "Gold". He's still a bit unhinged, but doesn't set things on fire anymore.

26. Sūn Wùkōng returns to his mountain after becoming the Buddha Victorious in Strife, but he often has his brothers over for tea and, about a hundred years after the Journey, takes Liù Chénxiāng (the nephew of Èrláng Shén) in as a disciple.

27. Liù'ěr Míhóu is given the title of "True Person of True Hearing" at the end of the story (making him the only one, who didn't become a Buddha or Bodhisattva). Tathagata informs him, that he joined the prilgrimage too late to make up for his terrible crimes, but he does give him magic transition surgery and promises to reward him in the future (provided the Macaque keeps working on bettering himself, of course).

28. Liù'ěr Míhóu specialises in helping vengeful ghosts. He restores their conscience and memory and if that's not enough to free them, he takes them in as disciples, until they're ready to reincarnate. On the side he clears up misunderstandings. A few centuries after the pilgrimage, Tathagata awards him the title "Bodhisattva Discerning Ghostly Speech" for his merit.

29. The Pilgrims are on the height of modern times. Getting phones and laptops was the Six-Eared Macaque's idea, because he was sick of having to write to his siblings and friends, while they can just talk into the wind and he'll hear it (Tripitaka didn't get a laptop until the COVID-19 pandemic rolled around and he couldn't hold his seminars in person anymore).

30. Liù'ěr Míhóu is getting therapy and taking medication to combat his mental instability. But his friends often have to accompany him to the hospital for check-ups.

31. Tripitaka/the Buddha of Sandalwood Merit and Èrláng Shén become friends after the Journey. Having obtained Buddhahood, Xuánzàng now remembers that they were friends in a past life and hopes to catch up and help Èrláng move on from his grief over Golden Cicada's death.

32. The real form of Xiàotiān Quǎn (Èrláng Shén's dog) is a giant heavenly dog the size of a large horse, but he has a smaller energy save mode in form of an albino Tibetan Spaniel.

33. Xiàotiān is extremely protective and affectionate towards his master. Èrláng Shén is also extremely protective of his dog and will brutally murder anyone, who tries to hurt him.

34. Nézhā becomes friends with Sūn Wùkōng throughout the Journey and they develop a brotherly bond. They also do brotherly things, like fighting about who is the older one. Spoiler: Nézhā is more than 500 years older (Èrláng Shén being about a thousand years older than Nézhā).

35. Sūn Wùkōng has let go of his anger by the time the modern era rolls around, but he's still waiting for an apology from Èrláng for the mountain fire.

36. Èrláng deeply regrets everything he did, but he can't properly apologise for major things.

37. During his fight with his uncle, Chénxiāng accidentally absorbed the Lotus Lantern and became immortal. He didn't realise the latter, until years later. He was not happy about it.

38. Sūn Wùkōng isn't Chénxiāng's only teacher, but the one he's closest to. He and Chénxiāng have a father-son-relationship. That includes dad jokes (much to Chénxiāng's dismay).

39. Very few people know that Chénxiāng became immortal and is still alive. Chénxiāng made them swear not to tell anyone, because he doesn't want to be found by certain people. Most of the time he's not even in China.

40. After being freed, Sānshèng Mŭ gave up her divinity to live a normal mortal life with her husband. Chénxiāng was overwhelmed with grief, after his parents eventually died of old age, while he was forever young. After his parents' death he moved back to Sūn Wùkōng for a while, before leaving to see the world.

41. At some point in the modern age, Nézhā had a falling out so bad, he decided he wanted a new legal surname, like, NOW. He asked Èrláng Shén to adopt him - much to the latter's consternation, as Èrláng is still haunted by his past mistakes and doesn't grasp how Nézhā could possibly see him as a parental figure. But Nézhā eventually softened Èrláng up and now his surname is Yáng.

42. Little does Èrláng realise, that Nézhā had already sneakily adopted him as a dad centuries earlier. Mostly because Èrláng respects him more and treats him better than his father and most other Celestials do.

43. Èrláng Shén has an unspoken crush on Sūn Wùkōng. He's not planning to do anything about the "unspoken" part, mainly because he's repressed and believes that love brings nothing but pain and misfortune and should never be indulged; and he also thinks it would be insulting to just walk up the the Monkey King and profess his feelings (considering the environmental destruction and genocide).

44. Yùdĭng Zhēnrén is extremely protective of each of his disciples. But the moment one of them starts hurting another, he'll banish the culprit at best and kill them at worst.

45. Golden Cicada was also extremely protective of their younger brothers and sisters. As a senior disciple, they felt it was their obligation to take the kids under their wings. That attitude didn't change, when they changed masters and became the second disciple of the Buddha.

46. During Èrláng Shén's and Sānshèng Mŭ's training under Yùdĭng, a then 9yo Èrláng was touched inappropriately by one of the senior disciples (who happened to be their master's favourite at the time). He confided in Golden Cicada, who reported it to their master.

47. Golden Cicada remained friends with the Yáng siblings and many others for the rest of their life. The last thing they did before dying and reincarnating was say goodbye to all their friends.

48. Èrláng Shén has a drinking problem. He's trying to quit for Nézhā's sake, but recovering from alcoholism is hard and he occasionally relapses. Nézhā is of course not happy about the drinking, but he appreciates, that his dad is trying to stop.

49. Sūn Wùkōng didn't know he was one of four Primates of Havoc, until he met the Six-Eared Macaque and the Buddha explained everything. Once the Macaque stopped being a villainous dickhead, the Monkey King was eager to meet the other two Primates. So Liù'ěr Míhóu introduced him to them.

50. The Red-Buttocked Horse-Monkey (Chìkāo Măhóu) and Connected Arms Gibbon (Tōngbì Yuánhóu) were excited to meet a new Primate of Havoc.

51. Chìkāo Măhóu is a female Taiwanese macaque, who emerged from a tree struck by lightning. She has exceptional healing powers, a profound understanding of human affairs and yin and yang, is very adaptable and loves trolling the death deities in various ways. She also likes to gather philosophers, say something, then sit back and watch, as a philosophical debate devolves into petty fighting.

52. Chìkāo Măhóu cultivated immortality under an immortal, who specialises in healing and medicine and named her Zhìyù Zhīshǒu. But the other three Monkeys of Havoc just call her Chì.

53. Tōngbì Yuánhóu is a transfem Hainan black-crested gibbon, who hatched from an egg-shaped lump of gold, that melted during a firestorm. She used to live in mainland China, until deforestation destroyed her home. She can shorten great distances, seize the sun and moon, play with the stars and distinguish the auspicious and inauspicious.

54. Sometimes Tōngbì Yuánhóu bonds with Liù'ěr Míhóu over being critically endangered species (the latter being the only six-eared macaque in existence).

55. When the Jade Emperor began his reign, he was full of enthusiasm and eager to make the world a good place. But over time he grew bitter and began to make it everyone else's problem.

56. The Jade Emperor has a photo of Sūn Wùkōng pinned to his office wall, which is riddled with darts, because he uses it for target practice.

57. One thing Sūn Wùkōng and Èrláng Shén agree on is this: if anything were to happen to Nézhā, they would kill everyone in Heaven and then themselves (if they could).

58. When Sūn Wùkōng first read the novel and saw that the author knew who his master was, he freaked out. Fortunately, he wasn't hunted down by an angry Subodhi thinking the monkey had broken his word.

59. Yes, Subodhi knows about the book. Yes, he also knows that Sūn Wùkōng didn't tell anyone, that he was his master. That's why he was chill about it.

60. Xiàotiān Quǎn is incredibly smart. He possesses human-level intelligence. Xiàotiān can't speak, but he can read traditional and simplified Chinese and has an excellent memory.

61. All four Monkeys of Havoc were born around the same time and are around 2500 years old.

62. Liù'ěr Míhóu can understand and speak all languages that exist, have existed or will exist in the future. But until he joins the Pilgrims, he could neither read nor write any of them. When Tripitaka learned this, he sat him down and taught him how to read and write.

63. Tàiyĭ Zhēnrén encourages Nézhā's goblin energy and feralness. Why? Because his adorable, sweet student, who can do no wrong, should be allowed to be free and- just kidding, the truth is, he's secretly a feral goblin himself.

64. The Pilgrims (including Liù'ěr Míhóu) are all super protective of one another. Even Tripitaka has a protective mode.

65. Tripitaka's protective mode is activated, when his disciples get sexually harassed (usually Liù'ěr Míhóu, given his feminine voice and appearance) and manifests in Tripitaka chewing the harasser out, until they run away crying. Ever since unlocking this particular skill, he has pulled no punches.

66. After Tripitaka was rescued from the Scorpion demoness, he told his disciples, that all that had happened was forward flirting on her part. He didn't tell them, that she actually assaulted him. Only Liù'ěr Míhóu knows, but Tripitaka made him swear not to tell anyone.

67. The Buddha prefers to teach his disciples how to let go of fleeting things piece by piece on their own, as he has seen first hand how traumatising it is for some people to suddenly be separated from everything they hold dear in this world.

68. When Sūn Wùkōng is overwhelmed, he flails his arms and speaks in monkey. People get confused.

69. Chénxiāng often visits Sūn Wùkōng on his island to check on his old teacher and catch up. He also introduced him to modern tech. A decision he now deeply regrets, because his teacher keeps sending him monkey memes.

70. Xiàotiān Quǎn was gifted to Èrláng Shén by Golden Cicada. After learning, that Èrláng had made a vow of celibacy, Golden Cicada thought, he still should have a loyal companion to shower with love and care to his heart's content, so they gave him a puppy.

71. Èrláng Shén doesn't know, that Xiàotiān Quǎn possesses the intelligence of an adult human. Partly, because Xiàotiān is perfectly happy being pampered, but mainly because Xiàotiān decided the best way to take care of his owner is to be undercover. He's really good at the "no thoughts, head empty" charade.

72. Liù'ěr Míhóu can hear pretty much everything, but it took him a while to learn to distinguish between truth and falsehood.

73. Bái Lóng Mă never forgave his father for almost getting him executed over accidentally setting something on fire, and completely cut ties with his birth family after becoming the Celestial Dragon Bodhisattva. He instead focussed his compassion and empathy on all beings mistreated and disowned by their family.

74. After banishing Shā Wùjìng to the Mortal Realm, the Jade Emperor got himself a new Courtain-Lifting General. But there actually are deities in Heaven, that still call Shā Wùjìng by his old title. Shā Wùjìng has mixed feelings about that.

75. Golden Cicada was an incredibly skilled warrior and possessed several potent magical weapons: an umbrella that can sap the magic of whoever they use it on, and a magical lantern. Before passing on, they gave the umbrella and the lantern to their old master, knowing he'd keep them safe. Golden Cicada also created the Lotus Lantern as a gift to Sānshèng Mŭ, after she became a goddess.

76. Golden Cicada could have become a Taoist deity, but rejected godhood, because they - just like their master - disdained the Heaven that treated their best friends so cruelly.

77. The Buddha of Sandalwood Merit sometimes jests about how he used to be the youngest of his friends and now, that he is truly one with Golden Cicada, he's in a way older than most of them.

78. Èrláng Shén has mixed feelings about how Tàiyĭ Zhēnrén encourages Nézhā's chaos, but he doesn't want to upset Nézhā by telling him not to interact with his master.

79. Sānshèng Mŭ - being a (demi)goddess - is over a head taller than Liú Yànchāng. He's a proud simp for his (what in the 8th century would've been a) giant woman.

80. Guān Yīn's disciples Mùzhā and Hóng Hái'er agree on only one thing: Lóngnü is the best and sweetest little cinnamon roll, deserves only the best and must be protected at all cost.

81. Nézhā adores dogs and loves petting Xiàotiān Quǎn. In turn Xiàotiān has observed, that Nézhā is one of the few people who can make Èrláng smile, so the K-9 agent has made it his mission to help protect this kid.

82. The Wŭdàxiān (a group of five local zoomorphic deities revered in Northeastern China) once lived in the Celestial Realm, until Wūyāxiān was wrongfully accused of sexual assault. While the lie was found out, the culprit faced no repercussions and Wūyāxiān was asked to leave Heaven, despite being proven innocent. The other four Great Immortals (Húxiān, Huángxiān, Shéxiān and Báixiān) joined their friend in exile out of solidarity.

83. When Tripitaka isn't doing Buddha things, he just chills out with his friends. When out in public, he goes by his real name Chén Xuánzàng.

84. Báixiān (the Hedgehog Immortal) was in fact the Shīfù of Chìkāo Măhóu and the one, who named her Zhìyù Zhīshǒu. The two are very close and Zhìyù Zhīshǒu considers her a mother figure.

85. When Nézhā was resurrected by his master, something went wrong and he was reborn with the True Samadhi Fire. It caused him pain, until Èrláng Shén (also a wielder of the Samadhi Fire) taught him how to control it.

86. Èrláng calls Nézhā "Xiăolián", when they're alone. He came up with that nickname as soon as he realised he was attached to the kid. Nézhā - never having been given affectionate nicknames before - didn't know how to handle that at first and teared up the first time he was called that.

87. Even after the Yáng siblings became gods, Golden Cicada still called them "Xiăo Yáng" or "Jiăn'er" (Èrláng Shén) and "Chán'er" (Sānshèng Mŭ), which Èrláng found incredibly annoying.

88. Yùdĭng Zhēnrén hates Heaven. Like, really hates them. He also hates most Celestials, especially the Jade Emperor. Nobody knows why, because he refuses to explain. So he was furious, when Èrláng joined Heaven to become a god, and made it clear, that he never wanted to see him again, unless there's an emergency only Yùdĭng can handle (a very unlikely scenario in his eyes).

89. Tōngbì Yuánhóu and Chìkāo Măhóu prefer to stay under the radar and constantly move. They're so secretive, that Sūn Wùkōng didn't find out about them, until he was 1100 years old. Liù'ěr Míhóu found them through his hearing pretty quickly after he was born. Tōngbì Yuánhóu is the oldest of them and when they get together, she's usually the voice of reason.

90. Liù'ěr Míhóu is the tallest of the four Monkeys of Havoc and a few centimetres bigger than Sūn Wùkōng, which the latter finds incredibly annoying.

91. Guān Yīn and Cháng'é are friends with Èrláng Shén and have been for more than 3000 years. Guān Yīn became friends with him, because she could tell he needed one. Cháng'é first met Èrláng, when her husband introduced them to each other, and they became fast friends after Hou Yi's passing. Despite the three of them being so different from each other, they somehow make it work.

92. Out of the former Tang Monk's disciples, only Sūn Wùkōng and Sūn Wùhuàn have disciples of their own. Technically that makes Xuánzàng grandmaster, but his disciples' disciples sometimes secretly call him "grandpa", thinking he doesn't know. Xuánzàng didn't know how to deal with that at first, but eventually he accepted, that he had upgraded from tired single parent to proud grandparent.

93. Sūn Wùkōng knows about Èrláng Shén's feelings for him, but doesn't confront him about them out of pity. And as long as Èrláng doesn't do anything creepy and stalker-esque, he doesn't see the need to bring it up at all.

94. Èrláng Shén introduced Cháng'é to the Netflix movie "Over the Moon" and now he has to sing the heartbreaking duet with her every time he visits. At this point he's sick and tired of it, but he still humours her.

95. All demons and dragons can purr.

96. When Liù'ěr Míhóu joined the Pilgrims, Tripitaka had to get used to someone suddenly seeing through his facade and calling him out. But once they got along, they reached a mutual understanding and developed a very close bond (not romantically. No. Just no.). Zhū Bājiè got jealous, when he realised he was no longer their master's favoured disciple.

97. Once a Celestial warrior was dared to cut off some of Èrláng Shén's very long hair, while he was napping. The next morning, the Jade Emperor went for a stroll in his garden and found a body in his favourite duck pond. I think you can guess what happened.

98. Èrláng Shén hates Lĭ Jìng with a burning passion and has made it his life's mission to make the man as miserable as possible. Nézhā finds it hilarious.

99. Tripitaka has permanent spinal issues from that time Liù'ěr Míhóu knocked him out by hitting him on the back. They manifest as flashes of extreme pain, that render him unable to move. Guān Yīn gives him special painkillers to ease the aches, but cannot heal him, because the chronic pain is karmic punishment.

100. Yùdĭng Zhēnrén gave the Yáng twins the same training. Only change was that after Èrláng came out as a boy, both his and his sister's training became tougher.

[cliozaur]

Was this switch of voice in this chapter really necessary? Generally, I like how Hugo changes focus, point of view, and plays with time, but here I find the change of POV unnecessary.

It is very noticeable that Jean Valjean is still very unpolished and has not acquired bourgeois politeness. His remark about “Monsieur le Curé’s” poverty is rude, but M. Myriel’s response is so gentle and graceful! He is a sweetheart! In turn, the bishop is careful not to hurt Jean Valjean’s feelings with his remark about the innocence of mountaineers.

We finally learned something about the bishop’s life during the Revolution. He was forced to work with his hands. He doesn’t say exactly what he was doing, except that the choice was between “paper mills, tanneries, distilleries, oil factories, watch factories on a large scale, steel mills, copper works, twenty iron foundries at least.” Franche-Comté was quite an industrial area! Now the region boasts that it was the centre of watchmaking. Was M. Myriel working at one of those watch factories?