#domestic huma

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

im officially coming off anon hi its tossball-stick 🐊 obsessed with your mythical creature au youve got going. id love to hear more about it, should you wanna tell. satyr kieran and sean are gonna stick in my head for forever thank you so much

Thank you!!! Me and @eggsaladsweetie work hard at it for fun :) I am glad it has captured your interest.

We have a google doc that contains information about the AU (it’s a WIP tho)

I can summarize bits of the world lore. Some will be copy pasted, others will be informally summarized.

——

General gist:

The AU is centered around the RDR2 world except fantasy creatures have existed alongside humans for centuries. The creatures range from well known in folklore like unicorns, all the way to mix-match fantasy creatures.

These creatures are magical in regard to being able to shapeshift into humans, talk to humans, and hide amongst humans. Besides that, there isn’t much magic in the world (as of writing this post).

Story details:

There is no decided story for the AU currently. Some details are altered, like certain characters dying at different points than they do in-game (Sean survives past chapter 3! Long enough to see Bronte’s mansion).

In the story, Arthur realizes Dutch is off his rocker sooner than Arthur realizes in-game. This is because Arthur and Micah have a more amicable friendship in the AU and Micah is willing to tell Arthur that he believes Dutch isn’t doing okay, mentally and physically.

Arthur still gets sick too. Chronic wasting disease!! He gets it from Mary Linton (another Deertaur) while she sick in the town of Valentines looking for her brother.

The story still ends like how it does in-game (that’s the plan as of writing this). Dutch still leaves Arthur to die on the mountain and doesn’t team up with Micah again until much, much later.

General Creature Lore:

- Note: species is not a stand in for race, ethnicity, or nationality. Most groups or organizations are a mix match of species so as to not make the connection that a species represents a specific group of people. When groups of one species do form, it is in a wild animal way or family. A herd of satyr is like herding behavior in goats. A group of Wursts form a group because they are family. Multi species groups are not uncommon.

Humans have existed alongside mythical creatures since humans have existed alongside wild animals. Humans have tried many times to domesticate mythical creatures but they all possessed such intelligence and resilience that many religions, philosophers, and groups proclaimed the creatures as something both inhuman and too human.

The creature’s ability to shapeshift into humans was disliked by many. Cultures across the world hunted mythical creatures for the resources and to eliminate the overlap of mythical and human interaction (though not all cultures. Groups and certain cultures carved space for these mythical creatures to coexist alongside them and even work them into their religions, traditions, and ceremonies).

They came to be known interchangeably as monsters, mythicals, or fantasy creatures. There are connotations attached to them of course (“monster” sounds scarier than “mythicals”), but in use they all mean the same thing.

Mythicals (depending on their size and niche) used to be common but with human expansion, they’d become rarer and rarer. Seeing a mythical is like seeing a shiny Pokémon.

Mythicals and their view of humans is a mix of instinct vs knowledge. Mythicals have the fight or flight instinct of animals at their core, but they have the human intelligence to reason, rationalize, evaluate, judge, and hold grudges. Almost all mythicals avoid humans (unless in disguise) so as to not even risk the chance of a negative interaction with a human. One upset human could lead to a whole village ready to kill.

All species can disguise as human. They can look the part but it requires practice and either really good studying or having an acting coach to nail behaving human. Even harder to do it convincing enough to trick humans.

When disguised, their fur/pelt turns into their human clothes. This means any animal that transforms leaves a visual tell behind. Ex: Dutch’s suit always has a black leopard print which is visible when the light hits it right. Colm has gray feathers in his hat.

[there is a lot more about monsters and especially specific monsters in the google doc]

VDL gang:

The VDL gang is an organized pack of mythical creatures that were all taken under wing by Dutch and Hosea (be it sick, injured, starving, too feisty for their own good, or other).

Packs of various mythical species isn’t unheard of but for one to be so big and so tightly knit is rare; most packs that form are temporary and seasonal for survival.

The VDL has close to the same dynamic as they do in-game.

Monsters come in 3 sizes in the world (check google doc, it explains in detail these sizing in the general monster section). The 3 size classification loosely dictates what duties members do:

Small creatures often help around camp since they can’t take part in major fights. That isn’t to say they are defenseless, they can very might fight.

Medium creatures both help around camp and go out to make money for the gang. They are the nimble pawns for the gang to use where needed.

Large creatures main job is to pull wagons when they are traveling, but from the day-to-day, they make money and help around camp with heavy chores like carrying things. They have a stigma for being the laziest in the gang because their big size makes it hard for them to be used in every mission, but they’re the big guns for missions and do a lot of work when needed.

[more info on the VDL members in the doc]

Other Groups in the Story:

The Pinkertons: Government organized group for eliminating mythical creatures (on top of being a detective agency…)

They take up hunting down the VDL gang after throwing their weight around one too many times and making it an emergency to capture and or kill the gang and its beastly members.

Angelo Bronte: mythical taxidermy collector and mafia leader.

His mansion is stocked with well crafted taxidermy pieces of baby spinx chubs forever frozen in play. Taxidermy of satyr dancing and playing instruments but never making a sound.

The VDL gang hates being in human disguise while being forced to look at taxidermy of their own species.

—

That’s the broad strokes as of right now. You could ask @eggsaladsweetie and see what they have to say about the AU.

I will happily talk about specific characters or specific species or anything else in detail, just send an ask.

[pearlofthesirens]

domestic simon riley headcanons perhaps?

ooh i'm gonna love writing thissssss!!

Domestic Simon Headcanons:

wakes up at either 4 or 5 am, even after retiring. doesn't let go of the military morning routine.

if you're sleeping, he'll give you the softest kiss before fixing the blanket so you're not cold.

brushes his teeth and immediately hits the gym. loves the food you make, will tear that shit up but he thinks he should be keeping his body fit too. doesn't want Johnny to tease him for becoming soft(you personally love him even when he's a huge teddy bear).

when he comes back and sees you making breakfast, he won't hesitate to give you back hugs despite your complains of him being sweaty and smelly. "Si, no! Take a shower first, you're stinky!" "Shower can wait, lovie. I need to give my girl a kiss first."

calls you all sorts of nicknames like lovie, darling, sweetie, doll, my girl, etc.

if he's hungry and you're not at home, the only thing he can make is tea and toast. might burn the bread a little, might add a can of beans or potato mash(bri'ish tings), do not trust him with the kitchen.

if you're doing chores together, he would definitely want to help a lot even if he doesn't know much. for example, he'd definitely help with keeping the counter clean and taking dishes out from the dishwasher if you're cooking.

why waste water? take a shower together! "Water's too hot, doll. You're gonna burn." "Water's just fine." "You make me wonder what kinda demon I fell in love with."

genuinely gets scared if you call him Simon Riley, or worse if it's Ghost. will start contemplating about every single thing he did and where he might've gone wrong. "Simon Rile-" "I'm right here, sugar. Anything wrong? Need a shoulder massage?" "I-...please get the box of pasta from the top shelf." "Anything for you, doll."

he generally refuses to let you see him in full gear, prefers to keep Ghost out of his lovely Manchester apartment. but once after he was done with a long mission, he was so tired that he entirely forgot he had a significant other and walked inside the house with his balaclava and everything. you almost let out a scream when you saw a tall figure with a skull face hovering over you as you were sat on the couch, reading your favorite book. "AAAHH-" "Darling?"

he would legit go "?????" before he realizes that he has his mask on and everything. removes it immediately and sees your eyes soften, arms wide open for him. he takes you in a bone crushing hug, not forgetting to kiss your forehead.

always the big spoon when sleeping, but loves your arm around him too. will keep one arm out for you to rest your head on, doesn't care if it's numb, and the other around your waist. when you're facing him, he will hold your head and hips protectively, letting you bury your face in his chest and neck.

doesn't believe that a man should be controlling what his partner wears, he will encourage your to wear whatever makes you feel comfortable and confident. keeps a protective arm around your waist in public to show that you're his. "Wear whatever you want, sweetie. I can fight, ain't got all this body for nothing."

arguments with him are always short. he would not let anything get to a point that you two are shouting on each other's faces, he does not want to be like his father. goes to a different room to cool himself down before he opens the door to find you.

has a hard time apologizing with words at first, will try to get you something like flowers or give you a silent hug. but he soon learns to say "sorry" and to be gentler with you.

will get down on one knee and present you the ring when you least expect it. wants to have a small wedding at a church with only a few people, preferably TF141, Laswell, your immediate family and a few close friends you have.

wants kids, but won't force you if you don't want to. will consider resigning from the military if he does end up being a dad, he doesn't want to risk his life out there when he has two beautiful human beings to come home to. "Such a poppet, isn't she? Just like her mama." "Don't give me all the credit, honey. She's got your looks too, pretty little thing."

will take you out for dates, dinners too. believes that a relationship shouldn't be stagnant. you get to pick the restaurant and he will willingly pay for whatever you want to eat. you just have to look pretty <3

although he likes to put the most effort, he expects you to put effort too. he takes offense if you disregard how he feels, is devoted to you and expects you to love him the same.

little things matter to him. he pays attention to how you make tea for him, how you do not push him when he doesn't want to talk about something, how you adjust the blanket over both of you every time he comes home late and plops himself down on the couch with you.

overall, the sweetest but realistically speaking, it might be a bit tough to live with him considering he's in the military and has a bitter past. but as long as you're ready to compromise and understand him, he will return the love tenfold and more.

proofread ✓ pearly venus, 22:00 240229

[humaforever]

Oh yes! I meant to leave a comment, I thought it was adorable. I'm a sucker for this kind of fluff.

Hi, do you read every huma story you see on ao3? I posted one so idk if you’re interested.

Yes, I do. What is the name of your fic? I may have read it.

[notwiselybuttoowell]

More than half of the world's food production is at risk of collapsing in the next 25 years due to a growing global water crisis, a new report warns.

Climate change, destructive land use and the consistent mismanagement of water resources mean that nearly 3 billion people and over half of global food production are in areas facing "unprecedented stress" on their water systems, the Global Commission on the Economics of Water said in a report released Oct. 17.

If the trend is not reversed, the growing deficit will have a seismic impact on humanity and the environment. Several cities are already sinking due to a loss of groundwater. Moreover, up to 8% of the global gross domestic product (GDP), and 15% of the GDP of lower-income countries, will be lost by 2050, according to the report.

"Today, half of the world's population faces water scarcity," Johan Rockström, director of the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research (PIK) and one of the commission's four co-chairs, said in a statement. "As this vital resource becomes increasingly scarce, food security and human development are at risk — and we are allowing this to happen.”

"For the first time in human history, we are pushing the global water cycle out of balance," he continued. "Precipitation, the source of all freshwater, can no longer be relied upon due to human caused climate and land use change, undermining the basis for human wellbeing and the global economy."

[bookofjin]

Growing foxtial millet, QMYS Section 3, Part 1

Continuing the Qimin yaoshu齊民要術 (“Essential Techniques for the Common People) by Jia Sixie (fl. c. 540). Advice for growing foxtail millet. Due to the length of this section, the translation will be divided into several posts. This post covers the introductionary dictionary definitions and Jia Sixie's own advice. Subsequent posts will cover the extensive quotations from earlier works.

[Translator's preface]

After opening the book with two general sections on tilling the fields and selecting seed grain, sections 3-54 cover the cultivation of specific plants (field crops, vegetables, fruit- and timber-trees, dye plants). The first, and lengthiest, of these is dedicated to the foxtail millet (Setaria italica). Known under many names, in Jia Sixie's home region it was often simply referred to as gu穀, “grain”. I suppose you could draw parallel to calling maize “corn” in English. Foxtail millet was first domesticated in North China during the Neolithic and remained the main staple crop there during the Early Medieval North China, . As such, by the time QMYS was written, Jia Sixie could draw on several millennia of experience with foxtail millet farming.

[Other plants mentioned]

Certain other plants are mentioned more incidental in this section.

Plants more or less suited to precede foxtail millet in a crop rotation system:

Mung beans or green gram (Vigna radiata), lüdou緑豆 (lit. "green beans"), used as green manure in crop rotation with millet.

Adzuki beans (Vigna angularis), xiaodou小豆 (lit. "small beans") served a similar function.

Hemp (Cannabis sativa), ma麻, grown both for textiles and oil

Broomcorn millet (Panicum miliaceum), shu黍, popular for brewing millet beer

Sesame (Sesamum indicum), huma胡麻 (lit. “foreign hemp”), considered the best oilseed crop

Turnip (Brassica rapa var. rapa),wujin蕪菁, leaves and roots are edible, and the seeds can be pressed for oil.

Soybean (Glycine max) dadou大豆 (lit. “large beans”), used as fodder or famine crop, but also fermented into sauces, etc.

Gua底 is a general term for gourds and melons

Trees whose leaves and flowers can be used to predict the best time for sowing foxtail millet:

Beiyang菩楊 appear to refer to some kind of willow (Salix) or poplar (Populus)

Peach (Prunus persica), tao 桃

Jujube (Ziziphus jujube), zao棗

Mulberry (Morus alba), sang桑

[Tools]

The illustrations below are taken from Wang Zhen's王禎 (1271-1333) Nongshu農書, who of course wrote several centuries after Jia Shixie. While many tools were essentially timeless and in continuous use up to the modern age, developments did happen, and also terminology could change.

The preferred tool for sowing was the seed drill, lou耬

(Wang Zhen's louche耬車).

The “beater”, ta撻, (for a lack of a better translation) was pulled over the furrows after sowing to compact them. Wang Zhen describes this tool as a bunch of branches weighed down by stones.

The arrowhead hoe, zuchuo鏃鋤 was a small, pointed hoe. According to Wang Zhen, arrowhead hoeing was one of four methods for hoeing with the youchu耰鋤.

QMYS is the oldest text to refer to the iron-tine rake, tiechi loucou鐵齒𨫒楱

QMYS quite often refer to the spear-harrow, feng鋒. Wang Zhen notes that by his time it was no longer in use, his description of it as a cross between a plough and a spade may therefore not be very accurate.

The sickle, yi刈, was the main tool for reaping field crops.

(Wang Zhen's yidao刈刀)

[Books quoted by QMYS in Section 3, in order of appearance]

The Erya爾雅 (“Approaching the Correct”) is the oldest surviving Chinese glossary. Modern scholarship dates the book to the late Warring States and/or early Western Han periods. It is quoted numerous times in QMYS. This is the second QMYS section to quote from the Erya. The last previous was Section 1 (“Tilling the Fields”).

The Shuowen 說文 (“Explaining Graphs”) by Xu Shen許慎 (c. 58 – c. 147) analyses the composition and reasoning behind the different characters. It is quoted numerous times in QMYS. This is the second QMYS section to quote from the Shuowen. The last previous was Section 1 (“Tilling the Fields”).

The Guangzhi廣志 (“Wide Treatise”) by Guo Yigong郭義恭 (Western Jin) is now lost, but it is quoted numerous times in QMYS and other books. This is the first QMYS section to quote from the Guangzhi.

Guo Pu郭璞(276 – 324) was a Daoist wizard, poet and writer. His surviving writings include the oldest extant commentary on the Erya and a commentary on the Shanhaijing. This is the first QMYS section to quote Guo Pu, from his Erya commentary.

Sun Yan孫炎 lived during Wei and was disciple of Zheng Xuan. He wrote (a now lost) commentary on the Erya where he pioneered the use of the fanqie system to indicate pronunciation. This is the first QMYS section to quote Sun Yan.

Liu Zhang 劉章(200 – 176) was a grandson of the Han founder. According to the Shiji he recited the Gengtian ge 耕田歌 (“Song of Ploughing the Fields”)at a banquet during the regency of Empress Dowager Lü, to show his opposition to the Lü clan's power, and he later became one of the main actors in their downfall.

The Guanzi管子 (“Master Guan”) is a collection of treatises on statecraft traditionally attributed to Guan Zhong管子 (d. 645 BC9), an influential minister in Qi during the Spring and Autumn era. Section 3 contains the third quote from the Guanzi in QMYS, the first two are in the preface (which I have impudently skipped).

[The original text is a mix of large and small characters. I have collected the small text sections together as indented notes within {} brackets.]

[Translation starts here]

Section 3, Growing Foxtail millet

Growing foxtail millet [gu穀]:

{“Grain” gu穀 and “foxtail millet” ji稷 are names for setaria millet [su粟]. Grain is the collective name for the Five Grains, and does not mean setaria millet. However, today people solely consider foxtail millet to be “grain”, and [I] look to the customary name for it, and that is all.} [For the remainder, gu穀 will be translated as “foxtail millet” in the sections written by Jia Sixie, ji稷 will generally be rendered also as “foxtail millet”, and su粟 as “setaria millet” (or just “foxtail” and “setaria”).] {The Approaching the Correctsays: “Zi粢 is foxtail millet [ji稷].”} {The Explaining Graphs says: “Setaria millet [su粟] is the fruit of excellent grain [gu穀].”} {Guo Yigong's Broad Treatise says: “The names of the kinds are Red Setaria and White Stem, Black-Patterned Sparrow Setaria, Duke Zhang's Mottled, Enclosed Yellow-Iron-green, Dark-green Foxtail, Snow-White Millet – likewise named White Stem, also White-Indigo Short, Bamboo Head-Stem Dark-green, White Wheat-Catching, Stone-Pulling Purest, Earth-black Dog-Paw.”} {Guo Pu's Annotations to the Approaching the Correct says: “Today in Jiangdong they call foxtail millet zi粢.”} {Sun Yan says: “Foxtail [ji稷] is setaria [su粟]”} {Note that the present age's names for setaria, many uses a person's family and courtesy names as the label name. There are likewise those where look and form established the names, and likewise those where what happened to be appropriate became the designation, [I] rely on them then to set them out, and that is all:} {Vermillion Foxtail, Highland Yellow, Liu Zhuxie, Daomin Yellow, Whittled-Grain Yellow, Sparrow's Regret Yellow, Continued Life Yellow, Hundred Days Grain, Upright Wife Yellow, Unworthy-of-Rice Grain, Slave Child Yellow, Jiazhi Foxtail, Schorced Gold Yellow, Quail's Slipper Iron-green which is also named Wheat's Floor-Fighter: These fourteen types ripen early and endure drought, early ripening avoids insects. The Whittled-Grain Yellow and Unworthy-of-Rice Grain types have a pleasing taste.} {Now-Fell-off-the-Chariot, Short Horse-Carer, Hundred Flock Sheep, Hanging Snake Red-Tail, Bear-Tiger Yellow, Sparrow's and People's Benefit, Horse Reins, Liu Pig Red, Li Yu Yellow, Amba Grain, Donghai Yellow, Rocky lesuo䮑歲, Dark-green-Stalked Dark-green, Dark Excellent Yellow, South-of-the-Paths Crop, Nook-and-Dike Yellow, Song Ji's Idiocy, Point Out Yellow, Rabbit Foot Dark-green, Kind Sun Yellow, Shifting Wind Red, Single Sunlight Yellow, Mountain Saline, Dundang Yellow: These twenty-four types all have spikes with bristles, endure wind, and avoid harassment from sparrows. The Single Sunlight Yellow type is easy to hull.}

{Precious Pearls Yellow, Popular Gain White, Zhang Lin Yellow, White Salt Foxtail, Thousand Hooks Yellow, Zhang Yi Yellow, Gleaming Tiger Yellow, Chief Slave Red, Reed-Stalk Yellow, Xun Pig Red, Wei Shuang Yellow, White-Stalked Dark-green, Bamboo-Rooted Yellow, Attuned Mother Large-grained millet, Rock-Pile Yellow, Liu Sand-White, Seng Long-lasting Yellow, Red Large-grained Foxtail, Auspicous Swift Yellow, Otter-Tail Dark-green, Continued Potency Yellow, Concave-Straw Yellow, Sun Long-lasting Yellow, Pig-Shit Dark-green, Smoking Yellow, Happy Slave-girl Dark-green, Level Long-life Yellow, Deer Stubble White, Salt for Breaking Baskets, Yellow dianshan, Hilly Place Yellow, Red Ba Large-grained millet, Deer Hoof Yellow, Famished Dog Iron-green, Can-be-Pitied Yellow, Hulled Foxtail, Deer Stubble Dark-green, Aluoluo: These thirty-eight types are the single stems great foxtails? [the received QMYS text is defective at this point]. The White Salt Foxtail and Attuned Mother Large-grained millet types have a pleasing taste. The three Concave-Straw Yellow, Hilly Place Yellow and Pig-Shit Dark-green types are bad tasting. The Yellow dianshan and Happy Slave-girl Dark-green types are easy to hull.} {Bamboo-Leaf Dark-green and Rocky Yichu, Bamboo-Leaf Dark-green is also named Hu Foxtail, Water Black Foxtail, Swift Mud Dark-green, Charging Heaven Cudgels, Pheasant Chick Dark-green, Owl-Foot Foxtail, Goose-Head Dark-green, Hold-Piles Yellow, Dark-green Hawk-cuckoo: These ten types ripen late and endure floods. If there is a calamity of insects, they are consumed.}

In general there is foxtail which is fully ripened early or late, which sprouts and straw are tall or low, which harvest results are large or small, which natural quality is strong or weak, which hulled grain taste good or bad, which grain results in gains or losses{A}. The conditions of the land can be good or poor{B}, and mountains and marshes differ in what is suitable{C}. Obey Heaven's seasons, and evaluate the land's advantages, then [you] will employ little strength yet achieve success many times. Rely on feelings and go against the Way, [you] will toil and yet get nothing.{D}

{A: Those that ripen early have short sprouts and the harvest is large. Those that ripen late have long sprouts and the harvest is small. Those which strong sprouts are short, and belong to the yellow foxtail. Those which weak sprouts are long, and are dark-green, white, or black. Those with small harvests are good but make losses. Those with large harvests are bad but make gains.} {B: Good fields are suitable for late types, poor fields are suitable for early types. Good land is not solely suitable for late types, early types are also not harmful. Poor land is suitable for early types, late types will certainly not give successful result.} {C: For mountain fields, types with strong sprouts, to avoid wind and frost. For marsh fields, types with weak sprouts, to aspire to splendid results.} {D: Enter a spring to chop wood and climb a mountain to look for fish, and the hand will surely be empty. To face the wind when sprinkling water, or to go against the slope when moving a pellet, these conditions are difficult.}

In general for foxtail fields, mung beans or adzuki beans as the previous crop is the best; hemp, broomcorn millet, and sesame are next; turnip and soy beans are last.

{It is common to see gourds as the previous crop, they are no less than mung beans. Originally they were not discussed, for the moment then keep it in mind.} [This note may be a later addition.]

For 1 mu of good land, use 5 sheng of seeds, and for poor land 3 sheng.{A} Foxtail fields certainly must be changed annually.{B} Those sown in the 2nd Month or the 3rd Month are the early-planted grain. Those sown in the 4th or 5th Month are the late-planted grain. From 2nd Month, First Ten-day, until the hemp and beiyang willow sprout seeds is the best time. 3rd Month, First Ten-day, until the Pure and Clear [qingming] Period and the peach tree first flower is the middle time. 4th Month, First Ten-day until the jujube leaves sprout and the mulberry flowers fall is the worst time. For those which the yearly Way ought to be late, the beginning of the Fifth Month or Sixth Month are also possible.

{A: This is for early-planted foxtail, for late fields increase the number of plants.} {B: If twice sowing the seeds, the weeds will be many, and the harvest poor.}

In general spring sowing wish to be deep, and ought to be dragged with a heavy “beater”. Summer spring wish to be shallow, and just sprout from itself.

{Spring air is cold, and sprouting is slow. If not dragged with a “beater”, they will set root in hollows, and even if they sprout, they will immediately die. Summer air is hot, and they sprout quickly. [If] dragged with the “beater” and there happens to be rain, [the ground] will surely be hard and dry. Those in the spring that are very moist sometimes also are not necessary to beat. To be certain they want beating, [you] ought necessarily to wait for [the ground] to turn white. Wet beating will cause the ground to be hard and tough is the reason.}

In general when sowing foxtail, after rain is good. If there is a little rain, [you] ought accept the wetness and sow. If there is great rain, wait for the weeds to sprout.{A} During spring, if there is drought, on the land of the autumn tilling [you] might open the mounds and wait for rain.{B} During summer, if there are open mounds, not only will it sweep away and wash out that which does not grow, [but] in addition it and the grassy weeds will set forth together.

{A: [If] there is a little rain and [you] do not accept the wetness, there is nothing to give birth to the stalks sprouting. [If] there is great rain and [you] do not wait for [the ground] to turn white, wet rolling then will cause the sprouts to be frail. If weeds are abundant, to first hoe one time everywhere and afterwards accept sowing then will be good.} {B: On the spring-tilled, it does not hit the mark.}

In general the fields that want early or late are mixed together.{A} In years that are intercalary, after the solar periods draw close, [you] ought to have late fields. However for the most part [you] want early, early fields yield more than late.{B}

{A: Prepare for what is proper in the Way of the year.} {B: Early fields are clean and easy to manage. The late ones overgrow with weeds and are difficult to manage. Their harvest, regardless of large or small, follows from is proper for the year, and is not connected to early or late. However, early foxtail have thin husks, the hulled grains are solid and many. Late foxtail have thick husks, the hulled grain are small and empty.}

When the sprouts have grown similar to horse ears, then arrowhead hoe.{A} At places with gaps and holes, hoe and patch them.{B} In general for the Five Grains, only the small hoe is good.{C} For good fields, usually for each chi [foot], keep one hole.{D} For poor land, seek out mounds and tread on them.{E}

{A: The proverb says: “Want to get foxtail, at horse ears the arrowhead.” } {B: The work done might not be overstated. The profit gained this way is a hundred times.} {C: The small hoe not only saves strength, the grain is also twice as good. With a large hoe, the grass and their roots will be profuse and thick, a lot of work will be done yet the harvest will grow smaller.} {D: Liu Zhang's Song of Tilling the Fields says: “Plough deeply and sow thickly, the standing sprouts want to be spread out. For those not of their kind, hoe and get rid of them. The proverb which states: “[When you can] turn around the chariot and reverse the horse, [or] throw away the clothes [and they] do not fall down, both give ten shi when harvested” tells that harvest for [fields that are] very sparse or very thick are all equal and even.} {E: Not tilling is the reason.}

When the sprouts spring forth from the mounds, hoe deeply. When hoeing, do not get bored with the frequency. Once done, start again. [You] must not stop though there is no grass.{A} Spring hoeing is to lift up the earth, and summer to remove grass. For that reason, spring hoeing is not done when facing wetness. By the 6th Month and after, even if wet, in this case is not disliked.{B}

{A: Hoe not just to remove the grass, then the land will ripen and the fruit will be many, the chaff will be weak, and the hulled grain will grow. When hoeing is done ten times everywhere, [you] will then obtain “Eight [parts of ten?] Hulled grain”.} {B: During spring, as the sprouts are just then slight and their shade are not yet covering the ground, if wet hoeing, the ground will become hard. During summer, the sprouts cast a solid shade and the ground does not see the sun. For that reason, even if wet, in this case there is no harm. Master Guan says: “To make a state, cause the farmers to till when cold and weed [yun芸] when hot.” To weed is to remove grass.}

When the sprouts have sprung from the mounds, each time [you] have gone through rain, in the time [the ground] turns white, immediately use the iron-tine rake across and athwart to rake and harrow them.

{Method for raking: Make a person sit down on top, and frequently use their hands to tear off and get rid of grass, if grass block up the tines it will harm the sprouts. Like this [you] will make the ground ripe and soft, easy to hoe and save strength. When hitting the spear-harrow, stop.}

When the sprouts are one chi high, spear-harrow them.{A} Tillage is not about not embedding the root sprouts deeply, it kills the grass and increase the results, however it will make the ground hard and tough, lacking in moisture and difficult to till. Hoe five times everywhere or more, and it will not be bothersome to till.{B}

{A: Three times everywhere is always good.} {B: When for sure [you] want to till, after you have reaped the foxtail, if you promptly spear-harrow below the roots to burst them up, it will be soft and moist, and easy to till.}

In general when sowing, [you] want the ox to move slow and leisurely. The sower makes hurried steps to tread the mound base with his feet.

{If the ox is slow, the seeds will be evenly placed. If trod with the feet, the sprouts will thrive. When the footsteps connect with each other, it is possible to not bother with beating.}

When ripe, reap quickly. When dry, store quickly.

{If reaped early, the sickle-use will be excessive. If reaped late, the spikes will break. If there is wind, the harvest will diminish. If stored wet, the stalks will rot. If stored late, there is loss and waste. If continuous rain, they will grow ears.}

In general for the Five Grains, for the most part those sown in the first ten-day will give a full harvest, those in the middle ten-day a middle harvest, and those in the last ten-day a lesser harvest.

[boxstudios]

Bob Velseb SFW Alphabet

I'm reposting this from ao3 :D

Reader Pronouns: They/Them Reader Sex: Not Specified Word Count: 2,221

I crossed out two I couldn't do!

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

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Bob doesn’t know how to show affection as I've said time and time again. How he shows his love in a sfw way is rubbing his face against yours, holding you, and gentle kisses.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Bob loves Cuddles. He likes holding you as he bites your neck. He's a big boy so he's warm and soft.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Settling down isn't really an option for Bob as he's constantly on the run from the cops but he likes the thought of it. Bob used to be a chef at a burger place and he knows how to clean up traces of blood so he's rather good at both cooking and cleaning.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Due to Bob being on the run marriage isn't an option however it's something he definitely wants. He loves the thought of you as his forever Spouse. It'll most likely never happen but Bob considers the two of you "unofficially married".

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

In a SFW context Bob tries to be gentle with you. He's a big guy and he's scared of hurting you. You're the only person he's gentle with and he knows you're smaller and much more fragile than he is. 

Emotionally, Bob is pretty unavailable. He tries to be gentle but he doesn't know how. He's a very blunt man and isn't used to catering to the emotions of others.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs. All the time. Bob loves hugs! He loves feeling your soft skin against him. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Bob doesn’t say it outright for a long time. He's a very quiet man and doesn't speak often. It's clear through his actions that he loves you dearly but he rarely spoke. When you heard him say with was probably when he was cuddling you (after sex). You hear a pleased groan come from his lips, and a slow and soft "I love you.." came out as he held you close. He most likely didn't even mean to say it, it just kinda happened.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's a really Jealous person. I mean he's a murderer who believes you belong to him. When he's jealous, he'll most likely kill the person making him jealous. If he can't do that, (when it's a close friend of yours or family) he'll just go on a killing spree. Letting out his anger.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Bob likes to kiss you everywhere. Your neck, your chest, your thighs. But his favorite place to kiss you is on your lips. Whether you're Lips are soft or chapped he loves them because they're yours. He loves exploring your mouth and tasting you as you share saliva. Gentle kisses as you lay tiredly next to him.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Bob used to be good around kids but that changed when he was busted for murder and cannibalism. Most children are terrified of him. His creepy smile makes sure of that. But he would like kids of his own with you. It's one of his goals. He'd go as far as to kidnap someone else's baby for the two of you to raise if he had to.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

If Bob decided to stay the night at your house, you would either wake up to you being smothered by your giant murderous boyfriend, or the smell of food in the kitchen. If it's the latter you'd be downstairs looking at the food Bob made for you and questioning him to make sure he's not trying to feed you human meat. If it's the former, you aren't moving for a while. He wants to hold you tight and he'll hold you there with him. The more you fight, the tighter his grip gets.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

If Bob decides he's not in the mood to get down and dirty with you, he'll simply hold you. You'll probably be watching TV as he does but he's simply staring at you and admiring you as you watch your show or movie. If you decide you wanna go out at night, Bob will follow you. Whether it's to the park, or the store, he's following behind making sure you're safe. He probably rests his head on top of yours while you're out as well. He's a very needy man.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Simple. If you asked, Bob would answer. He has no intention of hiding anything from you. You already know he's a murderer and it doesn't seem to bother you, so what else does he have to hide? If you ask about his past he'll tell you about his family and the people he knew. He won’t tell you if you don't ask, but if you do he has no problem with answering.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Bob has quite a bit of patience in general. Even more when it comes to you. But when he is angry he gets violent. He’d never act that way around you nonono. But when he's alone he'll smash and break stuff. He kills alot more people too. He'd never lash out at you. If he did by mistake expect hundreds of little apology letters and gifts.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Bob knows alot about you. He knows what foods you like, what foods you don't like, the shows you like, the stores you like, everything. He has been stalking you since you two started seeing each other. He remembers everything. He keeps a little notebook about you. Where he writes random things about you and your interests. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

There was one time that changed the way you saw Bob. It was a normal night for you two. You were snuggling up in bed watching TV. He held you close and suddenly you could feel him start trembling. You looked up at him to see tears rolling down his face with his normal smile there as he stared at you. You questioned what was wrong but he just sat there staring at you. "Bob?" The way you said his name so sweetly made it worse. He trembled more as he clung to you tighter. He just stared, thoughts running through his mind about his regrets and his past, wondering how his life got to this point. It all stopped when you cupped his face with your hands and gently kissed his forehead. You looked at him with eyes filled with kindness and concern. He broke down. He hugged you tightly as you could feel his tears gently land on you. Tear after Tear you hugged him back and comforted him. You could hear quiet sobs come from his lips as he held onto you. You stayed in that position for a few minutes before the sobs and trembling stopped. You could still feel his tears flowing onto you but all sound from him stopped. You looked at his face and noticed he had fallen asleep but was still crying. You sighed as you gently laid him back down. You then cut the TV off, turned off the light, and laid next to him. He quickly grabbed you in his sleep which caught you off guard, but you quickly relaxed and pushed yourself into his chest as you drifted off to sleep as well. It was the most emotional you had ever seen him and you'll always remember it, even if Bob didn't wanna talk about it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's a murderer. He always has a knife on them and if anyone so much as looks at you in a way he doesn't like, they're dead. There was also a time when you protected him. 

He had snuck into your window one night ready to get down with you until a knock came from the door. It annoyed him that it interrupted your moment but you told him to stay put as you walked to answer it. At the door were two cops, Jack and John. They said they had gotten a report of a suspicious figure sneaking into your yard. They then handed you the picture of an escaped criminal They suspected it to be. Sure enough it was Bob. Without his Demon Costume, You had seen him on the news before but you had almost forgotten what he looked like without it as he never took it off. The cops asked if they could come in and have a look around the house and yard to make sure nothing had happened here or no one had broken in. You knew it'd be suspicious to refuse. "Just give me one second.." You said before shutting the door and running upstairs. You walked into your room in which Bob happily greeted you before you walked up to him. "I need you to be quiet. Just lay down and wait for me to get back. Don't make a sound." You said sternly which caused him to grow confused but he understood as he laid down on the bed. He was kinda disappointed that your sexy time had to be put on hold but He didn't know what was going on. You walked out of the room and back to the front door. "Please come in! Please try to keep the noise down. My husband is asleep upstairs." The two cops nodded as they walked inside. Jack walked outside to go look around the yard while John checked the house for anything unusual. John was about to head upstairs when he noticed you didn't have a ring on your finger. He pointed it out. "Ah-! Uhm well I was about to go to bed before this so I took it off." John stared at you at first but it made sense as you were in sleepwear. Jack then came inside. "It's all clear." John nodded. The place looked fine and they decided they wouldn't have to check upstairs. You waved goodbye to the two policemen as they apologized for using your time. You made your way upstairs to see Bob stranded at the window staring at the policemen in the car. He turned to you with a smile before picking you up and throwing you on the bed as he started to take off his shirt. He had to thank you for protecting him somehow.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Bob is sweet when it comes to gifts. He'll write you sweet little letters for no reason and give you gifts just to see your smile. He loves taking care of you and doing things for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Coming into the house covered in blood. It happens too much. You get on him about it every time it happens.  You have to spend a while cleaning blood off your carpet and replacing your bedsheets when they get bloody.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Bob is very messy. He doesn't care much for his appearance as he wears a costume most of the time anyway so he doesn't see why it matters.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely. He is attached to you. Very attached. If you were suddenly gone he'd feel like an empty husk again.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He really likes when you take the initiative in anything. Kisses, Cuddles, Hugs. It makes him so happy he can't contact himself.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

When anyone touches you. It could be family, friends, or even someone tapping your shoulder to ask for directions. It makes him extremely angry. How dare they lay their filthy hands on HIS perfect piece of meat,

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Bob doesn’t sleep often which is why the bags under his eyes are so big. Some nights you force him to sleep with you so the fucker will actually sleep because you know he won't refuse cuddle time with you.

[topgunreacts]

In the story for the Werewolf Ice, you said that each of Val Kilmer's characters should turn into werewolves. We couldn't agree more on that! But could you please tell us what breed and color of wolf you have in mind for Val’s characters?

I am extremely headcanon-promiscuous, so each iteration would definitely come with its own distinct type of wolf. Overlaps, if they happen, would be circumstantial. When I write Iceman, he has a completely different family in each story, for example. I like the diversity, and enjoy being forced to come up with a different background that makes me consider what it was about THAT background that made Ice himself.

It doesn’t always need to be deep, either. Werewolf Iceman is an Iberian wolf, a subspecies of gray wolf that lives in Greenland. Just kidding. It’s the Iberian peninsula. I picked that wolf for Top Gun Iceman because they are trim, tightly muscled, and golden in color, just like Iceman’s tits in the volleyball scene. Also, Iberian wolves are cool.

Time for a

~Thunderheart Intermission~

Werewolf Ray Levoi is a Eurasian wolf, also a subspecies of gray wolf. Because Thunderheart takes place on an Indian Reservation and features a character of mixed indigenous/western European descent, I incorporated that into the lore of the story. The ancestral werewolf who gives Ray his power lives in modern day France, where she is worshiped, respected, and mostly feared. Ray’s mother is from a line of females (my werewolves pas down their power matrilineally) who immigrated from Europe to America. They are out of place in the US. Lost and isolated from their arcane culture. Ray specifically struggles with that on both fronts. His mother the European werewolf was too afraid to pass most things down to her son, and white settlers initiated multiple genocides to wipe out local werewolf populations, even seeking to kill the local ancestors to hobble them. This is because werewolf magic works to prevent things like consolidation of magical power. They’re like the water cycle but for magic. That makes hoarding magic very difficult! So Ray has almost NO connection to his werewolf side. He can’t even get in with the local werewolves because there aren’t any left (that he knows of…).

Similarly, he feels disconnected from his father’s people, the Oglala. His dad died when he was young, so he had very little exposure to Oglala culture. He’s white passing, and only goes back because his bosses at the FBI want him to root out activists, which he will do suuuuuper successfully by ingratiating himself with the locals. This will happen because he [checks smudged writing on partially censored document] shares an ancestry with the people his bosses are trying to put in the ground. For obvious reasons, this does not make him popular there because everyone with a brain cell knows what the fuck is up.

This is Walter and Ray doing their First Look on their wedding day. :) The sexual tension here is palpable.

But wait there’s more!!! In this AU, Ray is a black Eurasian wolf. Why? Because all black wolves have a little domesticated dog in them. That’s where they get that color. I didn’t pick a representative identity for the wolf and dog parts, since that’s not what I’m going for, especially given the fact that this AU is working with indigenous Americans: marginalized groups of people frequently compared to animals by virulent racists. Instead, the color is meant to symbolize Ray being torn between the magical and mundane worlds, being unable to find complete belonging in either place.

~the intermission has ended~

And now what you probably came here for: a small, unofficial official list of potential Val Kilmer Werewolves.

Tombstone Kilmer: red wolf that is always a lil dusty

Batman Kilmer: a timber wolf that was born in a zoo next to the bat enclosure

Real Genius Kilmer: a coyote pretending to be a wolf

Willow Kilmer: a tundra wolf wearing a wizard hat

Prince of Egypt Kilmer: Wepwawet's cousin

10th & Wolf Kilmer: human. too human.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Kilmer: extremely smart great plains wolf that willingly does enrichment puzzles with human field researchers for fun

[dfroza]

A Love Letter

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the letter of 2nd Corinthians:

I finally determined that I would not come to you again for yet another agonizing visit. If my visits create such pain and sorrow for you, who can cheer me up except for those I’ve caused such grief? This is exactly what I was writing to you about earlier so that when we are face-to-face I will not have to wallow in sadness in the presence of friends who should bring me the utmost joy. For I felt sure that my delight would also become your delight. My last letter to you was covered with tears, composed with great difficulty, and frankly, a broken heart. It wasn’t my intention to depress you or cause you pain; rather, I had hoped you would see it for what it was—a demonstration of the overwhelming love I have for all of you.

But if anyone has caused harm, he has not so much harmed me as he has—and I don’t think I’m exaggerating here—harmed all of you. In my view, the majority of you have punished him well enough. So instead of continuing to ostracize him, I encourage you to offer him the grace of forgiveness and the comfort of your acceptance. Otherwise, if he finds no welcome back to the community, I’m afraid he will be overwhelmed with extreme sorrow and lose all hope. So I urge you to demonstrate your love for him once again. I wrote these things to you with a clear purpose in mind: to test whether you are willing to live and abide by all my counsel. If you forgive anyone, I forgive that one as well. Have no doubt, anything that I have forgiven—when I do forgive—is done ultimately for you in the presence of the Anointed One. It’s my duty to make sure that Satan does not win even a small victory over us, for we don’t want to be naïve and then fall prey to his schemes.

When I arrived at Troas, bringing the good news of the Anointed, the Lord opened a door there for me. Yet my spirit was restless because I could not find my brother Titus. Eventually I told them good-bye and set out for Macedonia.

Yet I am so thankful to God, who always marches us to victory under the banner of the Anointed One; and through us He spreads the beautiful fragrance of His knowledge to every corner of the earth. In a turbulent world where people are either dying or being rescued, we are the sweet smell of the Anointed to God our Father. To those who are dying, they smell the stench of death in us. And to those being rescued, we are the unmistakable scent of life. Who is worthy of this calling? For we are nothing like the others who sell the word of God like a commodity. Do not be mistaken; our words come from God with the utmost sincerity, always spoken through the Anointed in the presence of God.

The Letter of 2nd Corinthians, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Interpersonal relationships are often filled with disagreements and tensions. It’s common to hear someone long for the “good old days” of the New Testament when things were simpler and people were holier. But Paul’s ministry proves the first-century churches were no different. They were just as full of fights, tensions, and power plays as modern churches are. We should seek to be loving but also firm when the situation demands it. We should be quick to offer forgiveness to and seek reconciliation with those who turn back from their divisive actions. That’s what Paul did.

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 5th chapter of the book of Leviticus:

Eternal One: When anyone sins by hearing a public call to testify about a matter he has seen or knows something about, yet he does not speak up, then he is considered guilty and must be punished. If anyone has physical contact with some impure thing such as the carcass of a ritually unclean wild animal, domestic animal, or even an insect—even if he is unaware of the incident—he has become ritually unclean and must accept the consequences. If anyone has physical contact with some kind of human impurity, regardless of the form of impurity it is—even if he was unaware of it at the time—once he realizes it, he must accept the consequences. If anyone speaks a careless vow to do something bad or something good or any careless vow for that matter—even if he was unaware of it at the time—once he realizes what he has done, he must accept the consequences. Regarding any of these situations, when the guilty party realizes the offense, he must confess it. He must present to Me an offering for his guilt as a remedy for the sin he has committed. This purification offering for sin must be a female lamb or goat from the flock. The priest will make atonement for the guilty person’s sin.

Eternal One: But if the guilty person is poor and cannot afford to offer a lamb, then he must bring to Me two turtledoves or two pigeons as a purification offering for sin. One of these will act as the purification offering and the other will be a burnt offering. The guilty person must take them to the priest, and the priest will offer the purification offering for sin first. He will wring the bird’s neck but not separate its head from its body. He will sprinkle some of its blood on the side of the altar and drain the remaining blood out at the base of the altar. This will be the ritual for the purification offering for sin. Then the priest will conduct the ritual for the second sacrifice, the burnt offering, in accordance with the regulations. The priest is to make atonement to cover the sin of the guilty, and the guilty will be forgiven.

If a person cannot afford to offer two turtledoves or two young pigeons, he must offer four pints of his finest flour as the purification offering for sin. He should not mix it with oil or frankincense because it is an offering for the purification of sin. He will give it to the priest, and the priest will take a handful of the flour as a memorial portion and offer it up as smoke along with the other fire-offerings presented to Me. The flour is a purification offering for sin. This is how the priest will make atonement to cover the sin of anyone guilty of these things, and the guilty will be forgiven. The leftover flour belongs to the priest as in the grain offering.

The Eternal One then told Moses about the guilt offering.

Eternal One: If anyone violates his covenant duties and unwittingly commits a sin against any of My sacred objects, then that person must bring Me an unblemished ram from the flock or its value in silver (according to the sanctuary standards) for a guilt offering.

The guilty person must offer restitution for the wrong he has committed against the sacred thing, add ⅕ of its value, and then give it to the priest. The priest will then make atonement for him by offering the ram to cover his guilt; and the guilty will be forgiven.

If anyone commits a sin by violating the directives I have given you—even if he was unaware of it—once he realizes it, he bears the guilt and must still accept the consequences. He must bring to the priest an unblemished ram from the flock or its equivalent value as a guilt offering. The priest will then make atonement to cover the guilty person’s wrong, which he unwittingly committed, and the guilty will be forgiven. This is a guilt offering because the person was guilty in My eyes.

The Book of Leviticus, Chapter 5 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

These are some cases where a purification offering for sin is required. It is important to note that sacrifice is not some magical cure for sin or its consequences. Before you come to God through the sacrifice, you must realize the error of your ways and confess it. Confession has always been act one of restoration.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, june 5 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New Covenant) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about Numbers:

The sages named the fourth book of the Torah "Bamidbar," meaning "in the desert," because the word occurs in its opening verse, and also because it aptly describes the Israelites' forty years of wanderings in the desert of Sinai after the great Exodus. Because God commanded a census of people to be taken several times in the book, however, the midrash calls it "Sefer Ha’pikudim" (ספר הפקדים), or the "Book of Countings," from which the English translation "the Book of Numbers" is derived. Interestingly, the Hebrew word for desert (i.e., midbar: מִדְבַּר), originally meant "from where the cattle are driven," that is, an area of pasturage that was uninhabited and fit for animal grazing. The Hebrew root "davar" (דבר) means "word" but also means "shepherd," evoking the call and direction of one who would guide his flock.

The book begins: "The Lord spoke (דבר) to Moses in the desert of Sinai, in the Tent of Meeting" (Num. 1:1). Now recall that during their wandering in the desert God's presence was symbolized by the Mishkan, or "Tabernacle," a central tent-like structure that had a secret inner chamber called the Holy of Holies, and within that hidden chamber was a sacred chest called the Ark of the Covenant (ארון הברית) that held the tablets of the Ten Commandments (עשרת הדברים). Upon the cover of the Ark, called the kapporet, were two cherubim (angelic figures), and it was there that God's audible word was spoken (see Exod. 25:22).

In light of this, among other things we can understand the book of Bamidbar to recount God's shepherding words given to the people as they wandered through desert places in search of the fulfillment of God's promise for their lives. The excursion into the desert is part of the journey of faith. God leads us by way of the desert - through struggle and waste places - to discipline our hearts to look for the greater hope of Zion.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 23:1-3 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm23-1-3a-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm23-1-3a-lesson.pdf

6.4.24 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

[christopherpeytoncrawford]

Bridging Fantasy and Reality: The Marvels of Modern Robotics

In the dynamic intersection of science fiction and reality, modern robotics emerges as a beacon of innovation that bridges the gap between the fantastical and the tangible. This exploration into the realm of robotics delves into the fascinating journey from imagination to implementation, unraveling the marvels that shape our present and hint at an awe-inspiring future.

Dreams to Reality: A Visionary Beginning

The roots of modern robotics are intertwined with the imaginative musings of visionaries who dared to dream beyond the boundaries of possibility. From the whimsical tales of automatons in ancient mythology to the prophetic writings of science fiction authors like Isaac Asimov, the concept of machines emulating human functions has been a persistent thread in our collective imagination.

The Age of Automata: Ancient Dreams Unveiled

Ancient civilizations harbored dreams of creating lifelike machines, and these dreams manifested in the form of automatons – mechanical devices designed to mimic human or animal actions. Tales of these early automata, from ancient Greece's mythical creatures to the intricate clockwork wonders of medieval China, laid the groundwork for the technological marvels we witness today.

Milestones in Modern Robotics: A Technological Odyssey

The evolution of modern robotics is marked by milestones that signify quantum leaps in technological prowess. From the rudimentary beginnings of industrial robots to the sophisticated, artificially intelligent machines of today, each milestone propels us further into a future where the lines between fantasy and reality blur.

Industrial Revolution 2.0: Rise of the Machines

The Industrial Revolution paved the way for the first wave of modern robotics. In the mid-20th century, engineers and inventors like George Devol and Joseph Engelberger introduced the world to the concept of industrial robots. These mechanical arms, initially used for mundane and repetitive tasks in manufacturing, heralded a new era where machines worked alongside humans in harmony, boosting efficiency and productivity.

AI Renaissance: The Cognitive Leap

The Renaissance of modern robotics came with the integration of artificial intelligence (AI). This cognitive leap transformed robots from mere automatons following pre-programmed instructions to intelligent entities capable of learning, adapting, and making decisions. Machine learning algorithms and neural networks empowered robots to navigate complex tasks, opening doors to applications beyond the realm of traditional automation.

Robotic Wonders in Everyday Life: A Seamless Integration

The marvels of modern robotics are no longer confined to the realms of science fiction or factory floors. Today, these technological wonders seamlessly integrate into our daily lives, shaping our experiences and interactions in once unimaginable ways.

Smart Homes: Robotic Companions in Domestic Bliss

The concept of smart homes, once a distant dream, is now a reality powered by robotics. From robotic vacuum cleaners that autonomously tidy up living spaces to AI-driven personal assistants managing household tasks, modern robotics has transformed our homes into hubs of automation, enhancing convenience and efficiency.

Autonomous Vehicles: Navigating the Roads of Tomorrow

The automotive industry is at the forefront of the robotic revolution, which is fueled by the development of autonomous vehicles. These self-driving wonders, equipped with advanced sensors and AI algorithms, promise a future where transportation is not only safer but also more efficient. The merging of robotics and automotive technology brings us closer to a reality where cars navigate roads with minimal human intervention.

Ethical Considerations: Navigating the Human-Robot Relationship

As modern robotics continues to weave its way into the fabric of our daily lives, ethical considerations become paramount. The symbiotic relationship between humans and robots raises questions about responsibility, accountability, and the impact on the social and economic landscape.

Job Displacement: Adapting to a Changing Workforce

One of the significant ethical concerns surrounding modern robotics is the fear of job displacement. As machines automate routine tasks, there is a growing need to adapt the workforce to evolving job landscapes. Reskilling and upskilling programs become crucial to empower individuals to navigate the changing dynamics of the job market.

Privacy and Security: The Price of Connectivity

The seamless integration of robotics into our lives introduces new challenges related to privacy and security. From smart home devices collecting personal data to the potential vulnerabilities in interconnected systems, safeguarding privacy and securing robotic technologies have become imperative to build trust in this evolving landscape.

The Future Unveiled: Toward New Frontiers of Possibility

The trajectory of modern robotics points toward a future where the boundaries of imagination continue to be pushed. As we stand at the cusp of unprecedented possibilities, the fusion of human creativity and technological innovation holds the promise of unlocking new frontiers.

Human-Robot Collaboration: A Symbiotic Symphony

The future of modern robotics envisions a symbiotic collaboration between humans and machines. Rather than replacing human roles, robots become partners in creativity and problem-solving. This collaborative symphony promises to elevate human potential by delegating routine tasks to machines, allowing individuals to focus on endeavors that require ingenuity and emotional intelligence.

Exploring Uncharted Realms: Space, Medicine, and Beyond

Modern robotics is set to venture into realms that were once reserved for the realm of fantasy. From robotic explorers on distant planets to nanorobots delivering targeted medical treatments inside the human body, the applications of robotics are expanding to unprecedented frontiers. The convergence of robotics with fields like space exploration and medicine opens avenues for discoveries and advancements that were once confined to the realm of fiction.

In the tapestry of human progress, modern robotics emerges as a vibrant thread that weaves together the realms of fantasy and reality. The marvels of automation, artificial intelligence, and robotic integration into our daily lives showcase the transformative power of human ingenuity. As we navigate this dynamic landscape, the key lies in fostering a harmonious relationship between the imaginative dreams of the past and the technological wonders of the present, creating a future where the extraordinary becomes ordinary and the fantastic becomes real.

[yourfriendlyneighborhoodsloth]

Thinking about domestic JongMoon where Jongwoo almost never lets Moonjo in the kitchen. Not because he is actually afraid that Moonjo will serve him human meat, but because he makes the same joke EVERY TIME WITHOUT FAIL

MJ: Hey, jagiya. Did you know this is huma...

JW: if you don’t shut up I'm about to MAKE this human meat

[humaforever]

so this is love x huma

It would be sweet, but that song is a little fluffy and domestic for them. I think it's more likely that they just go up to each other and start singing party songs and sea shanties.

[joz-yyh]

Love Host - Chapter 3

SUMMARY: A prequel to my fic, “Good Boy.” Takes place during the final scene of the game and the journey home afterwards. Miles becomes the host and the Walrider intends to consummate their bond. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: E (for graphic depictions of violence / gore / character death+rebirth / psychological torture / xenophilia / masturbation / handjobs / anal fingering / tentacle sex)

PAIRING: Walmiles (WalriderxMiles)

WORD COUNT: 3,349

Read on Ao3: Here

A/N: I swear this fanfic has a plot, we just haven't gotten there yet because we need to cover a lot of smut first (I am almost joking).

Also, if you haven’t seen it yet, you can check out the progress of My Wamiles Art, but be warned, it's NSFW!!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–——

It's early afternoon by the time Miles wakes up.  The sun is shining through the blinds, bathing the messy geometric contours of his modest, modern-esque flat in a golden glow.

Miles rubs the sleep from his eyes, yawning loud and wide despite having slept half the day away. He's stretching out the cricks in his limbs when the Walrider exits sleep mode and powers on, attune to it's host's internal clock.

The man recoils at first, startled by the dark, imposing figure, somehow forgetting the human-sized nanobot was still there despite having shared a bed with it, ensnared in the possessive hold of claws and tentacles.

The dissociation only lasts a heartbeat, his body remembering even if his jumbled mind took a moment to catch up, becoming calm again.

The brunette suppresses a chuckle as he turns towards his companion. This evil bio-weapon looks so out of place in the daylight, in the domestic setting of his bedroom, holding him like he's something precious.

Such a stark contrast to the Walrider that stalked under the cover of darkness, illuminated by neon emergency beacons and cold laboratory testing facilities. The same fearsome weapon that hunted patients, ripped out spines and spattered blood across narrow halls looked almost cute, charming in photographic filter of a beautiful autumn day.

Miles tilts his head, eyes catching the odd reflection of colors skittering over the obsidian skin, giving it the appearance of labradorite. He runs a finger over it, seeking the brilliance hidden underneath, his inquisitive tendencies getting the better of him.

He traces the jut of the Walrider collar bone to the curve of it's shoulder, rolling his palm over the joint there, the vibrant streaks of bio-luminescence shining like the trails of shooting stars.

The Walrider is more than happy to let Miles explore, an excitement decorating it's features as it's host dedicates himself to the task.

The brunette continues down the line of the monster's arm, sliding his hand over well-defined muscle, the same teal patterns spread throughout it's bizarre anatomy. Miles is in awe over it, of how it could change consistency, function and appearance, wondering if this iteration of it's skin meant it was left open, unarmored.

The Walrider was developed as a weapon after all and Miles could certainly see the advantages of a thick, abrasive exterior, but if his partner chose to convey it's trust by lowering it's defenses to show him this secret, well, Miles' heart twinges just a bit at the possibility.

The reporter guides his hand back up to stroke at the sharp angles of the entities' cheek, gazing into it's striking eyes situated behind the exoskeleton. The gentle caress of Miles' thumb along its jaw is lulling it's eyes closed, and soon the demon is leaning into it's host's bandaged palm, a chitter of contentment escaping through it's jaws.

Faced with such unabashed adoration, Miles dares to steal a kiss, the compulsion to do so proving too strong to resist. Pink lips purse against the side of it's mouth in not quite a chaste peck, but a firm lingering indulgence. The dark skin is warm under his lips, but it feels rubbery and plastic, an imitation of something inadvertently human.

"Thanks for staying with me," Miles says, a gentle smile on his face as he pulls away, blue eyes staring fondly at his handiwork.

His choice of his words is absurd really, ridiculous. The Walrider couldn’t leave him even if it wanted to. They’re both viscerally connected, permanent implants to each other’s existence, unable stray too far apart from each other without the consequence of death. Not that Miles had any concrete evidence to back this intrinsic theory up, it was really more of a hunch, and while his inheritance of the Walrider failed to come with a disclaimer or a user’s manual (he wouldn’t have read it even if it did), Miles wasn’t about to test the physical range of their limitations any time soon.

The machine is frozen and Miles swears he hears a cursed dial-up noise as it processes the kiss he had just given it and the man hopes the machine won't try to bite his face off in a misinterpretation.

Thankfully, it doesn't. Instead, it mimics Miles actions, claws outstretched to clasp the human's cheek in return. It leans forward, but without any lips of its own, all it can manage is a brush of teeth. The sharp points of it's canines sting only a little as they graze over his skin, sometimes chipping open a superficial mark.

A purr reverberates from inside it's throat as it rubs the softer sides of it's misshapen face all over Miles, a little too roughly in it's exuberance, the man's brunette locks of hair in total disarray.

"You're in a good mood, huh," Miles says with an amused chuckle, trying to push the Walrider's face away from his to gain some reprieve, although halfheartedly because he can't say he's had too many pleasant "morning afters" like this one.

The man doesn't know what prompts him to ask, or why he's hit with the sudden spike of anxiety, but the words are leaving his mouth before he can swallow them back.

"Did you enjoy last night, too," he asks in small, quiet voice that is entirely unlike him.

There’s an infinitesimal, but rapidly becoming larger part of him that wants the Walrider to have a choice in the matter even if Miles didn’t have one when it came to becoming the host. He wants to be a better master than Wernickle was, to honor Billy by being magnanimous in his mission, one that allowed the Walrider some semblance of free will and independence as unfathomable and ludicrous as that may be.

The Walrider squeaks with indisputable affirmation, pressing closer, smothering the human with the dense mass of it’s bulk. Their legs are tangled together, claws wrapping around his clothed back to bring them as close as they possibly could be and that should be enough of an indication to set Miles scattered mind at ease.

"Hey, hey, easy now, tiger!  We can't stay in bed all day! We're on the run from an evil corporation remember," Miles exasperates, prying the entity off before they spend another few hours engaged in some awkward rendition of coitus that involves a number of tentacles.

"No offense," Miles tacks on for good measure. Murkoff was it's creator and he didn't know if the Walrider had any lingering attachments to the private group that designed it however doubtful the probability seemed.

"We have a lot to do today and the clock is ticking."

We? Did he just say we? When did it become we? He chews on the word in his mind and it doesn't taste entirely unsavory, just different. Miles leaves the thought alone for now because he can always return to it later if he really needs to, but he has more pressing matters that don’t involve an existential crisis.

The Walrider seems to understand the situation all too well as it's lanky form deflates into the mattress, whining in annoyance as it mopes and pouts like a neglected pet. Miles gives his companion's slumped behavior an inquisitive brow, reaching over to pat the sulking dip of it's cranium in consolation.

"Hey, I'll try to be quick. A few hours tops. Just be ready if someone comes knocking," Miles tells it with an air of impending dread and the Walrider snorts at him dejectedly, not nearly as concerned with the threat of assassins as it was with the denial of cuddle time.

Miles sighs, dismissive, getting out of bed to go about his routine. He stops by the bathroom to brush his teeth and raid the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. His hangover isn't quite as bad as he anticipated it would be, but he could still feel it's lingering effects the moment he started walking around.

He cups his hand under the faucet, bringing the water to his lips as he swallows down the chalky white pills. That done, he decides to take a quick shower, thinking It might be the last opportunity he gets for awhile.

He leaves the bathroom door open and it's not long before he notices the Walrider curiously peeping in on him, it's dark outline huddled around the door frame as Miles stands behind the clear liner of the shower curtain.

Every now and then the reporter flicks his eyes over to it, watchful, wondering if it would try something to distract him, but to his surprise, the entity remains a respectable distance away, simply observing. By the time he steps out of the shower, the Walrider has disappeared, probably so Miles wouldn't catch him outright for voyeurism.

The brunette dries off, wrapping the towel around his waist as he heads in the direction of his dresser for a change of clothes. He fits his arms through the sleeves of a white collared shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and yanking it into place.

A gasp escapes Miles as a rugged masculine form sidles up to his back, spooning him before he can finish fastening the first button closed. Claws glide over his hips, dropping the fuzzy towel down his thighs to fall to the floor.

The beginnings of arousal stir in his belly and Miles internally chastises himself for it, knowing he can't afford to get carried away again.

"We can't do this right now," Miles reasons, "I promise I'll show you more later, but we have more important things to take care of first."

The Walrider extracts itself by a few centimeters, digesting this information, but as it wrestles with the concepts of self-restraint and carnal desire, the newly awakened heat the human had perpetuated eventually wins out.

Miles finds himself pinned to the wooden dresser he's standing in front of, the machine roughly keeping him in place with the superhuman strength of it's body. Miles hisses, the metal pull handles of his dresser drawers digging grooves into his flesh. He cranes his neck around, glaring at the machine from over his shoulder for it's excessive use of force.

"Didn't you hear me? I said we have to go. There's no time."

The Walrider seems to think there is.

Instant and wild sensation, molten and all-consuming as a pair of clawed hands trap the reporter's half-hard dick by the hilt. Miles jumps, involuntarily bucking his hips into it's firm grip and he cries out in a broken moan, the machine squeezing around him just the right amount, stroking him to fullness in rampant succession. Miles' resolve is diminishing faster by the second, growing less and less important the more those gruesome claws slide over his shaft again and again.

This probably wasn't a good lesson for the Walrider to learn, that Miles would eventually give in with enough prodding and persuasion, but he can school the machine on the importance of boundaries and mutual consent later because by comparison, this shouldn't take nearly as long as a discussion on complicated human relationship dynamics would.

Tentacles are wriggling against his entrance now, pushing in, caustic and raw, about to tear him open.

"Wait," He begs, his legs shaking, "Fuck -- just wait -- you --you need to wet them first. It makes things easier, more enjoyable."

The tentacles in his ass cease their advances, retreating backwards. One fully withdraws, soothing around the abused muscle with alleviating touches while the other remains a few inches inside, biding it's time.

Another set of tendrils travel up to Miles lips, recalling what the man did with his fingers the previous night, seeking the wet crevice of his mouth.

Miles shudders, accepting one of them in, licking over the surreal, jelly-like appendage, studying the taste and feel with his tongue. He sucks on it, wanton, the round tip lashing against the the roof of his mouth then tickling the back of his throat. His jaw is pushed to open wider as the second tentacle sneaks inside, and he can't help the strings of saliva that drip down from his chin, practically drooling over the two phallic-like limbs.

Having been sufficiently lathered, the tentacles leave the warm sanctity of the man's mouth and Miles misses them almost immediately, his jaw feeling stretched and empty without their residency. As if reading his mind, more come to replace his supply, delving past his lips, dancing along his tongue and Miles is hooked on the sensation.

The spit-slicked tentacles return to Miles' ass, allowing the smaller one keeping him loose, acting as a plug, to slip out first. The reporter moans around the tentacles in his mouth, trying to still his trembling body as he's filled to the brim, his insides now slackened and offering little resistance to the bigger girth.

Thick roots come to wrap around his weak, buckling knees, sturdy and more fortifying then the others and Miles can't do much besides hang on for the ride, his hands clinging onto the tall wooden dresser for support.

The Walrider's claws abandon his erection in favor of toying with the pert nipples obscured by the open flaps of his shirt and Miles can't even spare a complaint because the tentacles in his mouth slither out to coil around his dick, shrinking and expanding in sleek, velvety transitions.

"Ahh aha aah, fuck," His voice is raspy, strained so, he swallows, wetting his throat.

"There! theretherethere -- ahhh, fuck yesss."

Miles' howls of ecstasy spur the Walrider on, fueling it, accelerating it's movements, driving harder, pumping faster, matching Miles voice with a guttural thrum of it's own.

The demons makeshift tongue licks Miles' ear, his cheek, stroking down the side of his neck until it' jagged circle of teeth sink into the juncture of the man's shoulder, ruining a perfectly good shirt. Miles screams, feeling the rivulets of blood pour out from the love bite.

The man let's himself go, somehow finding the sense to warn the Walrider of his release.

"I am -- I am coming," he groans, muffling his words into the cuff of his wrist as he convulses, splattering the tentacles and the dresser in hot, sticky fluid.

Miles is attempting to catch his breath as a cum-smeared tentacle bumps the curve of his bottom lip and the man can't say he’s keen on the taste of himself very much.

"Eck! You can clean them yourself, you know," he grouses, batting the soiled tentacles away.

The Walrider applies this recommendation, tasting it's host's seed and Miles can't deny the blush that dusts his cheeks as he ogles the machine drinking up what's left of the milky white on it's tentacles.

The brunette shakes his head, clearing it, remembering what he was doing before he was so rudely interrupted.

"Fuck, now I have to change and clean up again." 

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

It takes him about another few hours to pack, to condense his entire existence into four black duffel bags, the lot of them placed conveniently near the front door.

He'd sent out about a dozen encrypted emails to what reliable connections he had, shared all the notes he'd kept of his experience at Mount Massive, about Murkoff's dirty little secrets. He made copies of what he could salvage from his glitchy camera footage, plans to drop the snuff film in the mailbox of every local news station and then some.

As a final hurrah, a eulogy for what was once a normal life, Miles is having a smoke, leaning his elbows on the pane of his open window. He takes in the details of the neighborhood, the concrete jungle of domestication and cramped run-down buildings that he had never really cared to appreciate before. The only reason he finds himself doing so now is because he doubts he will ever lay eyes on this city street again after today.

The Walrider was tame, well-behaved and non-invasive while he worked to sort though his files, the baggage both figuratively and literally so Miles doesn't mind when it approaches him from behind with claws wrapped around his waist, teeth nuzzling the back of his neck.

"I made copies of everything. I going to tell everyone," he tells it solemnly, "I don't know what's going to happen after that. I don't know what's going to happen to us."

The Walrider growls low, showing it understood, offering encouragement to it's host.

Miles makes a sardonic smiles at that.

"Yeah, I hope we'll be alright too," he says, reaching an arm up to curl around the demon's neck, giving it a small peck on the cheek.

There's only trace remnants of tobacco left in the filter of his cigarette, but he takes a long, lame drag on it anyway. Most of it had been wasted, burned off in tiny clumps of ash because he had been too busy being lost inside his own head, but he still liked the feeling of it in-between his fingers, the comfort the familiarity brought.

He snuffs out his cigarette on the window sill, dragging black streaks across cracked paint before flicking the butt down onto the sidewalk below.

He shuts the creaky window, latches it closed.

“Hey, when we’re outside in public, please try to be discrete. The last thing we needs is someone calling in a cryptid sighting,” Miles remarks, turning around, beholding the ominous form of the Walrider.

Obliging, the Walrider dissolves into a mist, thinning out until it becomes nothing at all.

Miles takes one last tour around his apartment, trying to take a mental picture of the memories he'd made over the past few years. He's leaving so much behind, but he can start over again if it means giving the world a better future by bringing Murkoff down.

Locking the door behind him, Miles descends the blocky stairs with two heavy bags on each shoulder. He takes one final look up at the building that he called home, focusing on his third story window before he rips his gaze away and faces forward again.

It's then that he recognizes the suspicious silver Audi parked in his spot, right out front on the sidewalk.

Holy Shit. Was he an idiot? How did he not notice it here before?

This was Trager’s car. It had to be.

Miles tries the door handle. It's unlocked. He tosses his bags into the back seat and then slides into the driver's side, looking for the car keys. Nothing in the ignition, but he keeps searching, a distinctive metallic clack resounding in the interior when he opens the fold-out mirror and they fall to the mat by the break pedal.

Fucking. Score.

Just for the hell of it, Miles takes the keys and bounds around to the back of the car. He opens up the trunk and just like he knew there would be, an expensive set of golf clubs and caddy are laying there to greet him, neat leather toppers, no doubt painstakingly chosen for each one of the ritzy driver clubs. Miles is going to use those later, but whether it's to pawn them, use them in an act of vandalism or put them to recreational use, he has yet to decide.

He slams the trunk closed and he can't believe his eyes when he sees the word, "BUDDY," inscribed on the rear goddamn license plate. He offers a chuff of disgust, rolling his eyes on his return trip to the drivers seat.

He turns the key, revs the engine and just takes a moment to breathe it all in, hands gripping the steering wheel to reiterate the fact that he had jacked Trager's motherfucking car and had brought it home with him, thinking that it must've been during one of his many mental blackouts. He doesn't know if those catatonic episodes are going to be an ongoing, reoccurring thing, but he hopes the answer is less and not more. Either way, Miles is not the type to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

Forget any thoughts he had about bittersweet departures. They're all replaced by giddy spouts of laughter because this feels like revenge, like he's pissing on Trager's grave and it's motivation enough to lay on the gas and do a burn-out, speeding straight towards the nearest news station.

{End Chapter 3}

[araiz-zaria]

Me: *writes this post*

Also me: *googles Gunma-chan ↓*

...yup *nods sagely*, that is definitely Ulyss' favorite thing 😏😂🐎

Me: *reading about how much Grant enjoyed the Japanese leg of his world tour*

Also me: *trying my absolute hardest not to just willy-nilly slap japanophile attributes on #instafeed au Grant 😅😫🙈💀*

[acquariusgb]

On weekends and during every Senate recess we were in New York. We’d fly up and spend Saturdays and Sundays traipsing from event to event. We worked, napped, and inhaled most of our meals in Scooby, but to the great relief of the Secret Service, she never actually attempted to drive it herself. Still, she never left home without her driver’s license. Every day, multiple times a day, I would overhear her on calls with her husband, calls that could be quite amusing. One afternoon, during a long drive, she called the house, and soon after they began talking I heard her tell him where he could find the Windex. Then, after another second, she repeated, “It’s called Windex, Bill. No, under the sink.” I don’t know if he didn’t hear her or didn’t know what Windex was or just didn’t know where it was kept. What I do know is that in his eight years at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Bill Clinton had never had to rifle around under the kitchen sink for Windex.

Both/And My life in many worlds- Huma Abedin. I love this passage. It’s so funny seeing domestic Hillary and Bill, like a normal married couple. LOL

[dark9896]

Five More Minutes [Raju x Reader]

This adorable little fic was requested by anonymous 🛏

Raju stirred a bit, not meaning to wake you but doing so anyways. Though the way you were still clinging to him made him feel like something was wrong. And he was quick to check your temperature. Brushing against your forehead as his basic understanding of huma's anatomy and wellbeing was that being too warm was a sign of illness.

You wiggled a bit, pushing his hand away gently.

"No, that's not it." You yawned, "I just want to stay put for a bit."

Raju thought about why you'd want to do this. Though still settled back into bed, rubbing your back. Weary about actually lulling you back to sleep. But still relishing that you were comfortable cuddling up to him like this.

So many things still felt like a dream to him. Like they shouldn't be happening... he would wake up soon and you wouldn't be here when he did. And Raju didn't like that idea at all.

You were just enjoying being so close to Raju. He was a rather sweet man... person. While it did take him a little while to even let you close like this, in any sense, this was so very worth all that effort. You felt perfectly safe snuggled under his last remaining arm.

It was a bit funny how stubborn he was about certain kinds of affection. Where he wanted you positioned when the two of you cuddled, how flustered he got when you could sneak up on him, how he fumbled in doing simple, domestic tasks.

Eventually you sat up, stretching and getting ready for the day. Though, Raju snuck his own sweet kiss on the cheek, just to make you blush.

[c-rose2081]

Image Credit

Three Little Dragons

Love Like Dragons AU

Bevie | Huma | Gildrey | Mal & Audrey BROTP

—

It was happening. It was happening right now and Evie felt like she was choking. It had been a few weeks since Audrey — Ben’s Aurorian Dragon — had laid her clutch of four eggs. One of them had been lost in a battle with some stray dogs, leaving only three in the little makeshift nest. Audrey was healing up nicely from her battle wounds; a result of that night. Her mate Gil, a Costal Dragon belonging to their friend Uma, was as attentive as any father could be. And the two, in Evie’s mind, made a picture perfect couple.

Mal, her own five-year-old Isle dragon, seemed a bit sick of all the gushy stuff.

Mal was a dragon who liked to cause mischief, wrestle and play games. She was young at heart, but knew bullying Audrey wasn’t an option while the young Mother was nesting. So she took to watching Evie sew in the den, or rolled around within old scraps of fabric on the floor to entertain herself.

Sitting in the living room that night with Mal laying atop her legs, Evie glanced up as Audrey startled from her nest. Watching curiously, the creature began to pace around the eggs, sniffing at them in the plastic tote which had been their home since the incident. Evie wasn’t sure if what she saw was true, but she swore one of the eggs wiggled in its place.

“Did you see that Mal?” Evie asked her best friend, looking down at the purple beast. She merely huffed a smoke ring in response, tired already of all the baby talk. No doubt she would be pleased when Audrey healed, her eggs were hatched and things went back to normal. Turning back to the nest, Gil was standing now as well, his big armored head looking into the tote. Grabbing Mal by the underbelly to set her aside, Evie rose to her feet for a better look.

Audrey, who still paced, flicked her tail slightly in protectiveness. But she didn’t hiss or growl, nor did she bite Evie which was a blessing. Squatting down to rest on the back of her heels, the bluenette stared at the eggs, urging one to move.

And it did.

There was a little wiggle, and another, and another. All three little eggs were wobbling in their nest home.

“Sweet Merlin,” Evie breathed, rising to her feet and running full speed into the foyer. Ben, her dear husband, was working upstairs in the office, “Ben! Ben come down here quick!”

Grappling for her phone, Evie had just found Uma’s number when a brown head of hair peeked over the stair railing.

“E? Is everything ok?”

“It’s happening Ben! It’s happening right now!”

“E, this is the third time -“

“No I mean it! I saw the eggs move! And Audrey and Gil are all worked up!”

“Oh...my god,” Ben breathed, leaning against the railing, “it’s really happening?”

“Yes! Now get your cute butt down here! I have to call Uma. She needs to be here!”

And Evie called their friend, who at first was also skeptical of the hatching. Evie couldn’t blame her; she had been a little over excited at the due date of the babies coming. But she had seen the eggs move with her own eyes, and Uma needed to know. After hanging up the phone, she met Ben in the living room. Like she had been doing not ten minutes before, he was crouched down by the tote. Audrey was up on his shoulder, looking down at her brood as though to say, ‘look what I did, Ben!’.

“It’s happening tonight,” he breathed, rising to a standing position and grabbing Evie round the waist, “it’s really happening!”

Giggling in delight, Ben gladly deposited Audrey back down to watch over her eggs while they set up. Evie busied herself with filling a bowl with warm clean water, while Ben grabbed some extra soft blankets and old towels from the linen closet. When Uma arrived — clearly having ran every red light and stop sign to appear so quickly — Harry her duffle bag slung over one shoulder. Clearly, they were prepared to stay the night.

“Hatchlings outside a sanctuary are rare,” Uma told Evie while dawning a pair of yellow latex gloves, “a lot of domestic dragons aren’t healthy enough to have strong offspring. So it’s important we check that all the babies are healthy, and can get out of the eggs.”

“What happens if they can’t?”

“Baby Dragons who can’t get out of their eggs end up starving,” Uma winced, removing a small scalpel blade from her bag and examining it, “imma just make sure we won’t have any problems. Harry, go hold Gil so he doesn’t charge me. Ben, watch Audrey to make sure she doesn’t take my fingers off,”

Nodding, both men moved to their respective places. Mal, disturbed from her nap by all the commotion, grumbled as Evie picked her up as well. The Isle Dragon hadn’t shown any protective urges since the night of the dog attack in the garden, but no chances needed to be taken. Uma, using a steady hand, used the scalpel to make ‘+’ shaped incisions on each egg’s ceiling.

“It relieves the pressure in the shells, and makes them more fragile,”

And just as Uma pulled back her hands, everyone leapt in excitement as a little head began to poke its way through the first egg. It was the largest one of the clutch, dark and ribbed with a bit of white gradient at it’s bottom. And as a little beaked head with a small tuft of magenta fur poked out, sticky with egg goop, Evie’s heart melted as it gave a little chirp.

“First one out,” Uma announced, “looks like a female.”

Audrey immediately went to the baby, sniffing at her little head as though to double check she was real. Soon, two front legs with hooked claws burst through the shell. The dragon was tiny, almost as tiny as Mal had been. And Evie worried as Uma carefully reached in to pick up the critter.

“It’s alright,” she soothed Audrey, who looked a tad irked, but not ready to bite just yet, “it’ll just be a minute. Ben, eyes on mama,”

“Got it,” Ben said with a small salute, gently running his hand down Audrey’s ridge to ease her worries. Handing Uma a wet towel from the bowl, Evie watched in stunned wonder as she cleaned off the little body, revealing a pair of small wings.

“She’s got a lot of Audrey in her,” Uma commented with a laugh, “hello there. Imma just flip you over,”

There was an unhappy baby dragon chirp as the creature was rolled onto her back, revealing a unique underbelly marking. It almost looked like a white skull. Holding a finger against her chest, Uma felt for a heartbeat, “strong heartbeat. Loud crying, and no doubt she’ll start feeding the minute we give her back to Audrey. What’s her name then?”

Glancing up at Ben and Evie, the couple looked at one another and came to a silent agreement.

“Why don’t you name her, Uma,” Evie suggested, “you’ve been such a great help the past few weeks. I would’ve pulled all my hair out without you,”

“I agree,” Ben nodded, still stroking Audrey who was poking at the two eggs still unhatched in the nest, “your choice.”

“Awe well,” holding up the baby dragon for a better look, Uma nodded and smirked, “Celia. I have a friend of mine, Freddie? She’s really into voodoo magic. Says the name has some powerful undertones on the other side,”

“Celia it is then,” Ben nodded, the group watching as Uma replaced Ceila in the nest where Audrey immediately took her by the scruff to tuck under her wing. It wasn’t a second after that did the second largest egg jerked hard. The shell gave way with a mighty CRACK, and another small, flimsy looking dragon rolled from the nest and into the blankets face first.

“Talk about a grand entrance,” Evie breathed, gently reaching into the tote (while watching Audrey) to pick up the little rascal.

“Another female,” Uma commented, “and a unique pattern,”

Indeed it was. This dragon was speckled green, pink, yellow and white. Her wings were tiny compared to Celia’s, but the end of her tail was massive and poofed out in all possible directions. On her head were two forward facing horns like her father, and she had a facial marking that almost looked like a pair of glasses. In Evie’s palm she wobbled a bit, falling from her feet to her side with a squeal.

“Awe. Are you a bit dizzy?” Evie asked, gently using a finger to help the creature stand again, “that will be your name then. Dizzy the Dragon.”

“She looks good, if not a bit klutzy,” Uma chuckled, taking Dizzy from Evie’s hand to check the heartbeat, “a little fast for my taste. But that might just mean she’ll be a lot to handle,”

Placing Dizzy back in the tote, Audrey took her under her wing as well. There was one egg left, the smallest of the bunch. It was the egg with a crack in it, and the egg Uma had been most worried about.

“Don’t have your hearts set on anything, ya’ll,” she told them, her voice a tad weary. Audrey, now nursing two small dragonlings, made a small trill with her beak and reached out her neck to push the egg with her nose. From inside, they all could hear a baby dragon crying.

“What do we do?” Evie asked. Uma was about to answer when Mal leapt down from where she had been sitting on the sofa. Into the tote she sprang, surprising them all. Before Evie could even chide her, the Isle Dragon had the egg in one of her hand like claws. In a flash, she crushed the shell.

“Mal!” Evie cried, afraid that the baby inside was now dead. But to her surprise, a body uncurled and flopped down into the blankets. Acting quickly, Ben was the one to pick up the dragonling while Evie hauled Mal from the tote. It was a tiny little thing, barely the size of a baseball. It had a long ridge of fur like its mum, and tiny bulb spikes like its dad. But the colors that adorned its sisters were gone, leeched to appear black and white. No doubt a mutation caused by falling from the nest.

“It’s a male,” Uma said, “is he alive, Ben?”

Shaking the little creature, he lifted his tiny head and gave a whine of protest, “ok, sorry I asked,” Uma grumbled, lifting her hands in surrender as Ben chuckled.

“This one is Carlos. The little brother.”

“Hand him here, Prince boy,” Uma ordered, taking the baby from Ben to clean and do a checkup. At once Mal, now interested, came to see. She sniffed at the little body, blinking and making a confused noise as he reached out his little claws for her.

“Any particular reason she’s so interested in Carlos?” Evie asked innocently, “I never really pinned Mal here as a maternal type.”

“Could be a few things,” Uma shrugged, checking little Carlos’ heartbeat, “in the wild, Isle Dragons will actually throw their eggs if they don’t hatch. They’re tough puppies, so most babies actually survive it. It just helps break the shells open,”

“So it was an instinctual thing, crushing the egg?”

“Probably. But dragons are kinda weird. We may never know,” giving Carlos one last boop on the snout, Uma lowered him back into the tote. Thankfully, despite being a runt, Audrey accepted him anyway and placed him with his sisters, curling over them with a purr. Harry, who had been quietly holding Gil, released the beast. He at once ambled to the tote, reaching his long turtle neck over the edge to have a look. Audrey gave her mate a happy little kiss, one of reassurance no doubt, and Evie crooned.

Mal, who sat between Evie and Uma, huffed rather loudly. It almost sounded as though she were trying not to care, though her eyes were firmly fixed on the tote.

“So Mal,” Evie said, pulling the dragon close to her with an unhappy little grunt, “how does it feel to be an Aunty?”

Mal gave another loud wail of annoyance as Evie chuckled, and the gathered friends watched the new dragon brood. Finally together at last.

—

A/N: Decided to adjust the formatting for better reading ability. Let me know if it bothers anyone?