#new manifold land

[shopmoonymoss]

KEYCHAIN UPDATE LETS GOOOOOO

LOOK CHAT LOOK LOOK THE TEST BATCH GOT HERE !!

if you wanna pre-order one you can here !!

obvi some of the designs didnt translate to the keychains (for example lmanburg, the flag should be flipped so its on the same side as the clasp) and i have fixed the designs !! i might also the badlands ones colours turned out to dark so i changed the outline to a lighter grey :D (the new design is next to the old one for reference)

[communist-manifesto-daily]

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific - Part 10

[ First | Prev | Table of Contents | Next ]

To return to our British bourgeois. The French Revolution gave him a splendid opportunity, with the help of the Continental monarchies, to destroy French maritime commerce, to annex French colonies, and to crush the last French pretensions to maritime rivalry. That was one reason why he fought it. Another was that the ways of this revolution went very much against his grain. Not only its "execrable" terrorism, but the very attempt to carry bourgeois rule to extremes. What should the British bourgeois do without his aristocracy, that taught him manners, such as they were, and invented fashions for him – that furnished officers for the army, which kept order at home, and the navy, which conquered colonial possessions and new markets aboard? There was, indeed, a progressive minority of the bourgeoisie, that minority whose interests were not so well attended to under the compromise; this section, composed chiefly of the less wealthy middle-class, did sympathize with the Revolution, but it was powerless in Parliament.

Thus, if materialism became the creed of the French Revolution, the God-fearing English bourgeois held all the faster to his religion. Had not the reign of terror in Paris proved what was the upshot, if the religious instincts of the masses were lost? The more materialism spread from France to neighboring countries, and was reinforced by similar doctrinal currents, notably by German philosophy, the more, in fact, materialism and free thought generally became, on the Continent, the necessary qualifications of a cultivated man, the more stubbornly the English middle-class stuck to its manifold religious creeds. These creeds might differ from one another, but they were, all of them, distinctly religious, Christian creeds.

While the Revolution ensured the political triumph of the bourgeoisie in France, in England Watt, Arkwright, Cartwright, and others, initiated an industrial revolution, which completely shifted the centre of gravity of economic power. The wealth of the bourgeoisie increased considerably faster than that of the landed aristocracy. Within the bourgeoisie itself, the financial aristocracy, the bankers, etc., were more and more pushed into the background by the manufacturers. The compromise of 1689, even after the gradual changes it had undergone in favor of the bourgeoisie, no longer corresponded to the relative position of the parties to it. The character of these parties, too, had changed; the bourgeoisie of 1830 was very different from that of the preceding century. The political power still left to the aristocracy, and used by them to resist the pretensions of the new industrial bourgeoisie, became incompatible with the new economic interests. A fresh struggle with the aristocracy was necessary; it could end only in a victory of the new economic power. First, the Reform Act was pushed through, in spite of all resistance, under the impulse of the French Revolution of 1830. It gave to the bourgeoisie a recognized and powerful place in Parliament. Then the Repeal of the Corn Laws [a move toward free- trade], which settled, once and for all, the supremacy of the bourgeoisie, and especially of its most active portion, the manufacturers, over the landed aristocracy. This was the greatest victory of the bourgeoisie; it was, however, also the last it gained in its own exclusive interest. Whatever triumphs it obtained later on, it had to share with a new social power – first its ally, but soon its rival.

The industrial revolution had created a class of large manufacturing capitalists, but also a class – and a far more numerous one – of manufacturing work-people. This class gradually increased in numbers, in proportion as the industrial revolution seized upon one branch of manufacture after another, and in the same proportion it increased its power. This power it proved as early as 1824, by forcing a reluctant Parliament to repeal the acts forbidding combinations of workmen. During the Reform agitation, the workingmen constituted the Radical wing of the Reform party; the Act of 1832 having excluded them from the suffrage, the formulated their demands in the People's Charter, and constituted themselves, in opposition to the great bourgeois Anti-Corn Law party, into an independent party, the Chartists, the first working-men's party of modern times.

[ First | Prev | Table of Contents | Next ]

[satorusbbgg]

POV: You end up with Satoru in the Prison Realm (Part-1)

"Satoru!" You screamed in sheer aghast and anxiety as Suguru Geto was about to close the gate to the Prison Realm. You could not comprehend on what to do- you were Satoru's only ally at Fukutoshin Platform (BF5), the rest were either non-sorcerers or enemies. Honestly, you despised Satoru, however seeing him all weak and vulnerable, being held down by weird, cranky-ass tentacle-like structures, made you rethink whether you actually loathed him.

Satoru did not even bother looking at you, but Suguru did, the latter grinned. "My, my, Satoru. Before you go, why don't you say good-bye to your girl?" Satoru remained stiff as ever, so did you. Suguru chuckled and then shrugged. "You had the chance to bid her a proper farewell but seeing you, I guess you don't want to." "Satoru?" You called out again, this time yet gently. Satoru spared you a tiny glance that conveyed 'Don't worry, I am the strongest' but you knew better; even he was anxious.

Suguru smiled, "Let us meet again in the new world. Good night, Gojo Satoru." For a moment, everything just stopped until Suguru's voice was heard again. "Close." You sweared felt something strange in your heart, therefore without even a mere second thought, you leapt in, intentionally, along with Satoru.

"Holy shit!" Satoru cursed as you both landed in Prison Relam. You gulped; why did you even jump in? "Care to get up from my lap or do you like daddy's lap too much?" Your cheeks flushed as you realized that you landed on Satoru's lap. You practically scurried off his lap and, in that process, your head hit a pile of bones which made you wince. Satoru did not even try to stifle his laugh and burst out laughing. "God! You're such a clumsy ass idiot!"

You huffed in annoyance and sat up straight with a visible red and swollen bump on your forehead, making him laugh harder. You rolled your eyes, "You are the idiot! You fell in Sug-Kenjaku's trap, for God's sake!" Satoru held his stomach, not even reacting to what you had said. "Well, I agree, however come on, Suguru was my beloved sweetheart so it was obvious for me to you know.... But but but, you are the dumber one since you got yourself into his trouble. I am not even your friend, sweetie. Don't you hate me?"

"Inspite of my personal feelings towards you, this is professional business, and you are my colleague, it is very normal to be concerned of your colleague, right?" You spoke in a rather confident manner, but the last word sounded unsure because you indeed were flabbergasted as to why you jumped in with Satoru. He looked at you with a teasing glint in his eyes and speaks up, "I don't think concern extends up to jumping in Prison Realm with a person you despise. Tell me, what is it? Do you perhaps have a crush on me or are you in love, huh?"

Your face flushed in crimson as you tried to find a suitable reason for his question... but he was correct, indeed. Yet you couldn't let him win... you had to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. "Well, I was concerned that you would not be able to take part in your usual miscellaneous activities like shopping and making people furious and therefore, you might bore yourself to death. I am simply here to accompany you, Satoru." His grin widened, "So you are volunteering for me to annoy you? Oh, you are so in love~"

You gritted your teeth, glaring at him, "Anything but that-" You were cut off by him laughing. "You really don't know me, do you? Either I spend my time fighting curses and teaching or", he leaned in closer to you, his breath brushing your ear, "I go around making pretty girls like you beg for my cock, suck on it and then of course, I make them cum, manifold times on my cock."

A/N: Part 2 will be up soon!

[livesonthebside]

A couple of months ago, my penpal asked me if I had any favourite poems/quotes that could be read over the graves of men from the FE. He didn’t find any this year, but in honour of Fitzjames, I thought I would post some of my selections:

Terror & Erebus by Gwendolyn McEwan:

This is the end of science.

We left it behind us,

A graph in the snow, a horrible cipher, a desperate code.

And the sun cannot read, and the snow cannot either

Franklin's Passage by David Solway:

We know differently.

Ice is meant to be grappled with,

broken through,

trudged over,

listened to,

died on.

We know this, too.

The Northwest Passage

is where it always was.

It is here right beneath our feet.

Northwest Passage by James Pollock

When you set out to find your Northwest Passage

and cross to an empty region of the map

with a headlong desire to know what lies beyond,

sailing the thundering ice-fields on the ocean,

feeling her power move you from below;

when all summer the sun’s hypnotic eye

won’t blink, and the season slowly passes, an endless

dream in which you’re forever diving into pools,

fame’s image forever rising up to meet you;

when the fall comes, at last, triumphantly,

and you enter Victoria’s narrow frozen Strait,

and your Terror and Erebus freeze in the crushing floes;

in that long winter night among the steeples

of jagged ice, and the infinite, empty plain of wind and snow,

when the sea refuses to be reborn in spring,

three winters pass without a thaw, and the men,

far from their wives and children, far from God,

are murdering one another over cards;

when blue gums, colic, paralysis of the wrists

come creeping indiscriminately among you;

and you leave the ships, and set out on the ice,

dragging the lifeboats behind, loaded

with mirrors and soap, slippers and clocks,

into the starlit body of the night,

with your terrible desire to know what lies beyond;

then, half-mad, snow blind, even then,

before you kill the ones who’ve drawn the fatal lots,

and take your ghastly communion in the snow,

may you stumble at last upon some band of Inuit

hauling their catch of seal across the ice,

and see how foolish you have been:

forcing your way by will across a land

that can’t be forced, but must be understood,

toward a passage just now breaking up within.

Some pro-explorer poetry was On First Looking Into Chapman’s Homer by Keats

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

Round many western islands have I been

Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;

Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken;

Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes

He star'd at the Pacific—and all his men

Look'd at each other with a wild surmise—

Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

and The Imitation of Christ, because it’s the origin of the title of the Edwin Landseer painting:

According to our resolution so is the rate of our progress, and much diligence is needful for him who would make good progress. For if he who resolveth bravely oftentimes falleth short, how shall it be with him who resolveth rarely or feebly? But manifold causes bring about abandonment of our resolution, yet a trivial omission of holy exercises can hardly be made without some loss to us. The resolution of the righteous dependeth more upon the grace of God than upon their own wisdom; for in Him they always put their trust, whatsoever they take in hand. For man proposeth, but God disposeth; and the way of a man is not in himself.

And my personal fave, I'm Going Back to Minnesota Where Sadness Makes Sense by Danez Smith:

Have you ever stood on a frozen lake?

The sun above you, the snow & stalled sea - a field of mirror

all demanding to be the sun too, everything around you

is light & it’s gorgeous & if you stay too long it will kill you

& it’s so sad, you know? You’re the only warm thing for miles

& the only thing that can’t shine.

[breakfastteatime]

Today's fic request goes out to @on-and-on-we-go-forever who requested 'freckles'.

Cal wipes the sweat from his forehead and stares at his handy work. The new drive manifold looks a lot better than the busted old one, and the onboard computer has connected to it, running diagnostics to make sure it’s fully compatible. It grounded them for a few days on Bogano, and after some convincing from Cere, Greez agreed to let Cal help with repairs… or just do the repairs, seeing as Greez had his hands full patching the outer hull. The rescue mission on Bracca had certainly left its scars, and the AT-ST attack on Zeffo added a few more, leaving distinct damage they had no choice but to repair.

BD beeps at him, telling him to have something to drink. Bogano is a lot warmer than Bracca, and Cal had stripped down to his undervest to cool himself down. Thanking BD for the reminder, Cal grabs his water bottle and finishes half of it off in three rapid gulps. Burping loud enough to wake the dead, grinning at BD’s tittering, Cal slides out from under the ship and takes a seat on the grass. He leans back, basking in the sunlight. It’s warm enough to be comfortable, and the gentle breeze, singing with the Force, calms his whirring mind. He can sense all kinds of life here, so different to Bracca. It’s quieter here but no less busy. Far below, boglings race through tunnels to avoid the bog rats. Birds wheel through the sky. Not too far away, the binog surveys the land with an ancient eye. Closer, he can feel the intensity of Greez’s concentration and the nullspace where Cere exists. She’s so shielded, his mind slides right off her. He can’t imagine choosing to cut himself off from the Force. He’d clung to what little he’d had left over the past five years, painstakingly faced parts of himself he’d buried deep, and he’s not done yet. To deny himself the intensity, the vivid sound and music of the Force, so completely would be to erase part of himself forever.

Running through a few stretches, Cal feels his stomach grumble. Greez left out a whole range of snacks, and Cal figures he should treat himself to some. He heads aboard, sees Cere hard at work on the comms, and goes to wash up while BD hops down and goes to scan the food. Greez is weird about dirt. When Cal comes back, Cere’s moved to the galley where she’s making tea and eating one of the spice cakes Greez baked. She looks up at him, mouth opening but no words coming out.

“Are you alright?” Cal asks.

Cere blinks. “Yes. Yes, sorry. I was distracted for a moment.”

Cal grabs a spice cake and takes a bite. It’s delicious. Cere hands him a cup of tea, and he takes it gratefully. He’s working his way through a third spice cake by the time Greez joins them.

“Alright, once the diagnostic routines are complete, we’ll be good to go.” He wipes his hands on a rag which he tucks into his toolkit. “I need a cold drink after that, how about you Caaah huh?”

Cal stares back at Greez who’s gone slack-jawed. “Are you okay? Are you having a stroke?” he asks.

BD makes a few other suggestions.

After several attempts, Greez manages to speak again. “There’s something different about you. You’re… you’ve… you’ve changed.”

“I took a few layers off, it’s not like I’m naked over here.”

“You see it too?” Cere asks.

“I see something, but I dunno what it is.” Greez comes closer. “You feeling okay, kid? Not coming down with something?”

“What? No!” Cal turns to BD, who offers a shrug and suggests maybe both Cere and Greez are losing their minds.

“Sorry,” Cere says. “It’s just there’s something different, Cal. Something…” She breaks off, snapping her fingers. “I’ve got it.”

“You’ve got something alright,” Cal mutters.

“Freckles,” she says. “You’ve got more of them.”

“Oh, yeah!” Greez says. “Huh, look at that!”

Once again, Cal turns to BD for support. His friend suggests that spending a few days in the sun on Bogano has brought dormant freckles back out. Rolling his eyes, Cal heads for the engine room. “You guys are weird,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s… who’s… blossoming!” Greez calls back.

Cal stops.

Cere snorts.

BD-1 beeps curiously.

“Okay, that sounded wrong,” Greez says.

[usafphantom2]

SAC Crew Dogs: The Elephant Walk, The Wing Commander, and the Boom

T Campbell

@tcamp202

·

4h

… as the crew pulled up to the Alert shack, they could see the Wing Commander’s Chrysler Reliant K-Car parked right at the main entrance to the shack. The Air Force blue car was still smoking a bit, and most of the paint had been burned away… somebody was gonna get a chuck taken, that much was sure…

This is the retelling of a story I heard as an A1C (Airmen First Class) while pulling SAC Alert at Loring AFB when I was a Boom Operator in the KC-135 A model. It was probably embellished when it was told, and I might embellish it even more… cause you know, that’s how Alert Stories go. I do hope that I do it justice in my retelling.

In order to understand the humor in this small fairy tale, I first need to explain a couple of technical details about KC-135 operations. It’s a lot of background to tell a silly old story, but please bear with me… the story is funny (or at least I think it is.)

Engine Start: The KC-135A was equipped with the Pratt and Whitney JP-57-P/F-43W, good solid engines, but they required a lot of tender loving care, and if they didn’t get it, they let you know in a hurry. There were a few different ways to start the engines.

The most common was to have an air cart connected to the aircraft. It would supply air to the bleed air manifold and would be used to start all four engines.

Another way we could start the engines was often called a Cart Start. Using a Cartridge, a canister about the size of a large coffee can, filled with a slow burning explosive, which could create enough air to turn the starter long enough to start the engine. All four engines could use Cartridges.

If you had any single engine running, you could use bleed air from that engine to start the others, however, you had to push up the power a bit to generate enough air pressure in the bleed air manifold.

Image

Gases escaping after turning the engine starter during a Cartridge Start on a KC-135A.

Photo from https://www.airliners.net/photo/USA-Air-Force/Boeing-KC-135A-Stratotanker-717-148/666058/L

Hot Starts: One thing that these engines did not like at all was being started with an insufficient amount of bleed air, whether from a ground cart, or the other engines. Failure to get the engine turning fast enough when adding fuel often resulted in hot starts with flames shooting out the back of the engine, kind of like an afterburner, but these flames weren’t blue… they were a reddish yellow, like fire and could reach out to the tail of the aircraft. Sometimes flames would even shoot out the front. They were dangerous. Fire bottles were always on hand for engine starts, just in case.

Engine Shutdown: After landing, the pilots would stow the spoilers, retract the flaps (otherwise, tower might think we’d been hijacked) and shut down two of the engines, usually the inboards to avoid accidentally sucking up anything from the taxiways into the engines, and also, so that when the ground crew chocked the tires, they wouldn’t have to walk closely to a running engine.

However, on Alert, we always shut down the outboard engines first, so the ground crew could install a new Cartridge in the #1 engine (furthest to the left.) The cartridges were dangerous, and the last thing the crew chief wanted was a running engine behind him and no escape route if there were any problems. Once the cartridge was installed, the other engines could be shut down because we had the ability to restart the jet if required.

Ok… if you’re still with me… great! Last thing you need to know is about Elephants walks on Alert. An elephant walk is where a group of airplanes get all configured for a mission, start engines and taxi out, but instead of taking off, they just taxi down the runway. Kind of like a parade.

For elephant walks on Alert, this process is started with the Klaxon going off and the brass inspect the aircraft as they are taxing to ensure they are all properly configured for takeoff. Think of it as your typical military inspection… you know, “Trim those nose hairs” type of affair, but with airplanes.

Last thing to remember… SAC took Alert VERY seriously. Everything had to be done by the book, and if it wasn’t, there’d be hell to pay. The aircraft always had to be ready to launch on the nuclear mission to refuel B-52s. As they say, failure was not an option.

So… now that you are armed with some knowledge on how the KC-135 normally operates, it’s time to tell our story.

Image

An Elephant Walk. KC-135 R models (bigger engines), not A models... but it gives you the idea... imagine a car driving between the aircraft to inspect them. Our ill fated crew was somewhere in the middle of the line.

Once upon a time, there was a crew… we’ll call them R-113 with Captain William Bligh as the commander, the co-pilot and nav shall remain nameless, but the Boom Operator was SSgt Fletcher Christian. They were on Alert, spending another seven days cooped up in the Alert facility, and serving their country. Breakfast started the day followed by a mandatory briefing at oh eight hundred. After this, maybe some ground training or bon bons and the Price is Right, and then it’s lunch time. A combat nap would take up most of the afternoon, followed by dinner around five. All the while, waiting for the Klaxon to sound off. Not exactly riveting stuff, let me tell you.

“FOR ALERT FORCE, FOR ALERT FORCE, KLAXON KLAXON KLAXON”

One day, our fateful day, the Klaxon went off and the crew sprinted out to their aircraft. This is a hectic event. Get the covers off the engines, get the door opened, rush up into the cockpit, check all is clear, and fire up those Cartridges to start the engines. Black smoke is billowing everywhere and it’s hard to see, but the engines get started, the crew chief makes his way up the ladder into the aircraft, and they button up to the aircraft, ready to taxi.

On the sidelines, the Wing Commander is proudly watching his KC-135s do what they do best. He watches the rolling clouds of thick black, toxic smoke as the engines start.

“FOR ALERT FORCE, FOR ALERT FORCE, MESSAGE FOLLOWS… SIERA NOVEMBER ALPHA FOXTROT UNIFORM…”

The message from command post… it’s an elephant walk exercise. The aircraft will taxi out of the Cage, the Alert pad for the KC-135s, and out to the runway. There, they will taxi about halfway down the runway, turn off and line up, nose to tail, on the returning taxiway waiting to be inspected by the Wing Commander.

While sitting in line, with a tanker just in front of him, and another just behind, Captain Blight decides to save some fuel, he’s going to shut down two of the engines. This is normal. However, instead of shutting down the outboard engines, as was normal in this situation, he shuts down the inboard engines as if he’d just finished a normal flight.

As soon as the throttles were in the cut off position, he realizes his mistake, but there’s nothing he can do. He announces his dilemma over the crew’s intercom… so the boom, SSgt Christian says, “Hey, just restart them, what’s the big deal?”

Meanwhile, at the end of this line of KC-135s, the Wing Commander starts inspecting the aircraft. He drives by each jet, taking a zig zag route through the jets, looking to ensure the flaps are set correctly, the stabilizer trim (the horizontal portion of the tail) is trimmed to the correct position for takeoff. He’s quite proud of his jets… maybe he’ll get another promotion and get the h*ll out of this sh*t hole base.

Captain Bligh says, “In order to start the engines, I’m gonna have to push up the outboards a bit to get enough bleed air, but I don’t want to FOD (foreign object damage) out the jet behind us, but ok, let’s do it.” He pushes up the outboard throttles as much as he dares and starts the engine start sequence for the number two engine (left inboard). He turns on the ignition, and then after the engine has just barely enough rpms, the turns on the fuel.

Right about this time, the Wing Commander has finished looking at the jet behind our ill fated crew, and he is crossing behind Captain Bligh’s number two engine, when a huge flame, at least forty feet long come shooting out of the back of the engine, right onto the hood of his car.

As you might be able to imagine… the radios come to life and the Wing Commander starts screaming about the jet with the flames coming out of it… followed by “Everybody report to the briefing room (at the Alert shack) after re-cocking the aircraft.”

It was pretty quite for the next thirty minutes or so, while Captain Bligh and crew got their aircraft re-cocked for Alert. After they wrap things up, they get in their Alert truck and head back. There was a little discussion though, they had to get their story straight.

As the crew pulled up to the Alert shack, they could see the Wing Commander’s Chrysler Reliant K-Car (remember, we bailed out Chrysler) parked right at the main entrance to the shack. Oh sh*t… this wasn’t going to be good. The Air Force blue car was still smoking a bit, and most of the paint had been burned away from the front fender and hood. There was no doubt, the briefing room was not going to be a pleasant place to be.

As the last crew sat down, somebody called “Attention”, and everybody stood up at attention. The Wing Commander walked down the center isle and up to the podium. “Crew 113… get up here!”

The Wing Commander addressing Captain Bligh asked, “Why on earth were you restarting your engines?”

Captain Bligh responded, “My Boom Operator said to.”

Lesson learned… if you are the lowest ranking guy, always look be on the look out for sh*t rolling downhill.

@tcamp202 via X

[paganimagevault]

Fragments of the Buddhist monastery at Miran (Xinjiang) 3rd-5th C. CE by Titasa (Tita/Titus?) & other unknown artists. More images (and sources) on my blog, link at bottom.

I'm not 100% sure what nations the people in the photos belong to. They lived in Loulan (aka Kroraina). They used the Indo-European Gandhari language in their writing. They wrote in Kharosthi script which was also (at least partially) used by the Saka of Khotan, Kushan Empire, Sogdians, and Bactrians. Some suspect the artist (or one of the artists) may have been a traveler from the Roman Empire because of his art style and the name "Titasa".

"The Miran murals, now housed in the National Museum of New Delhi, are too delicate to travel (see frontispiece) but Stein found thousands of other items at the many desert ruins at the ancient town of Cadota, north of present-day Niya. These included Gandhari documents in Kharosthi script (cats. 27, 40, 44, 45, 46, 47) 74, 75, 76, 77, 89, 141): administrative records, letters and legal documents, some sent by the king of Kroraina to the ruler of Cadota. They offer a unique glimpse into the concerns of these oasis settlements, especially when placed in context of the archaeology. Stein explains how the sites had been abandoned over time and thus cleared of any items of intrinsic value, but ‘...the manifold other relics, however humble, which had safely rested in the sand buried dwellings and their deposits of rubbish... all help to bring vividly before our eyes details of ancient civilisation that without the preserving force of the desert would have been lost for ever.'

Miran, Cadota and the other towns of Kroraina seem to have been largely deserted by the fifth century. Defeated by the Northern Wei in 445 and with a warming climate making the route through the Lop Desert to Dunhuang no longer viable, people started moved out. The irrigation canals silted up and the dwindling population was unable to provide enough labour to continue to make the land sustainable.

Although not an ocean of emptiness, the analogy of an ocean for this area is a useful one.” The peoples and cultures moved like currents some, like the Gulf Stream, travelling great distances while retaining distinct characteristics, influencing the lands they passed by. Others were merged into more powerful currents, or soon settled on the ocean floor to nourish local cultures. The Yuezhi/ Kushan and the Xiongnu were examples of the first — powerful swirling currents whose origins and many sub-currents are difficult to map. The Hephthalites, who controlled Khotan, Kroraina and Gaochang as well as Gandhara and Northern India by the fifth century, were another powerful current. They exemplify the difficulties of Central Asian scholarship. Even though they ruled a considerable area for over two centuries, had their own language and script and minted their own coins, historians are still trying to piece together a coherent pictures of the nature of the people, their language, social structure, beliefs and art."

-The Silk Road: Trade, Travel, War and Faith by Susan Whitfield

https://paganimagevault.blogspot.com/2023/09/fragments-of-buddhist-monastery-at.html

[listenheresweaty]

Revivebur x Reader Part 4

Hhh i hate how this turned out, but here it is. parts 1-3 can be found in my masterlist (pinned post)

taglist: @witheredroseanon

there's 1/2 of my debt to the doggo. siren fic will be coming out soon.

He doesn’t stop bothering you, but your drawers do stay locked after that incident in the forest— or maybe it’s just the new locks you’ve installed. Wilbur seems to have changed tactics, deciding to annoy you with his constant presence instead of directly interfering with your life by stealing or breaking things. Occasionally, you do go a little mad while looking for a certain tool in your cabinets, but as soon as you turn around you meet Wilbur’s eyes. He holds up the item as if asking, “you looking for this?”

You don’t have to say anything. He silently holds out whatever he’s stolen towards you, his smirk never fading even as you snatch it back. 

Soon, this barely fazes you anymore. When your wrench goes missing, you don’t even look up from the table— you just hold out your hand to the side and he places it in your palm, snickering quietly. 

And if Wilbur notices you lean closer to the table to hide your smile, he doesn’t mention it. 

 It’s easier to tolerate him as time goes on, even if he’s squatting on your land and laughs in your face at any suggestions of making him pay rent. 

One day, Tommy runs out to find Wilbur waiting in the lawn. He greets his little brother, reluctantly roped into conversation— but it’s immediately clear that his mind is elsewhere. Even while giving distracted, half-finished responses to Tommy’s queries, Wilbur’s tilting on his feet, subtly leaning over from side to side as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see through the bushes and into the house. But there’s nothing— and no one— there. 

“What are you looking for?” Tommy asks, confused. 

“Nothing.” Wilbur sighs, almost seeming disappointed. “C’mon, Toms. Let’s go to, um… where did you say you wanted to go again?”

The two set off to spy on Tommy’s old hotel  (Tommy wanted to see how it was faring under the Manifold regime) and hold one of their first real, honest conversations in months. 

During one of Wilbur’s rants, Tommy begins to notice some marked differences in Wilbur’s conversation topics. He no longer goes on and on about why you’re a bad influence and Tommy should stay away— he slanders you regularly, yes, but never mentions Tommy’s possible departure from your house like he used to before the fight. 

“—And they have all these maps and papers cluttered all over their study, fanning out across every room like some sort of cursed web of documents, and god FORBID someone touches those papers or moves them in the slightest way because they will just flip the fuck out— I swear to god they’re insane Tommy, they drive me insane, with their stupid notes and crazy plans and constant nagging voice and that absolutely arrogant, unbothered attitude as they just chill in this stupid cabin on this ridiculously tall mountain, and don’t bat an eye at anything that I— at anything that anyone does— they make no sense and they—----- they just drive me nuts, Tommy, absolutely nuts. I don’t know how you deal with them.” 

Wilbur was rambling on and on to Tommy about how infuriatingly maddening you are, excitedly waving his hands as he tried to make his point. Tommy listened in bewilderment. 

“They’re not arrogant.” Tommy protested. “You’re just a nuisance.” 

“Tommy, you can’t see that behavior and think it’s normal.”

“What behavior? Writing plans on paper? Liking things organized?”

“No, no. The—- the—” Wilbur waves his hands emphatically, staring at Tommy as if trying to get Tommy to understand his point without outright saying it. 

Tommy does not get it. 

“Nah, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them. They—” Tommy says, before being cut off. 

“I’m just saying–” Wilbur attempts. 

“No. You aren’t—” 

“Not that they’re dangerous–”

“We aren’t doing this—” 

“They could never be dangerous, I’m just saying—”

“Oi, prick! They’ve given both of us a roof to sleep under and meals to eat. Actually, there’s mushroom stew tonight and I’d fucking appreciate it if you’d refrain from being an arsehole at dinner.” 

“Wh— me?” Wilbur stops in the middle of saying something else and looks at Tommy. “Me? At dinner?” 

“Yeah, they’ve invited you too. Can’t see why..” Tommy grumbles, hiding behind some tree to squint at the hotel in the distance. “Look, Manifold’s coming out! …What the hell is he wearing? Is that supposed to be a uniform? He looks like dollar store versions of the Queen’s guards.. Wilbur! Are you listening?”

“...Hm? Oh, yeah. Manifold. What’s he doing?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Now, when he moves away, we need to….”

Tommy kept talking, but very little of what he said seemed to have registered in Wilbur’s mind. Although Manifold had just gone back into the hotel to sleep, thus rendering their plans useless, Tommy had definitely noticed how Wilbur’s mind had been somewhere else during the conversation. During the entire day, actually. 

And when they return later that evening to find you having already cooked the mushroom stew (not in order to avoid Tommy in the kitchen, not at all), Tommy is paying very close attention. As the (very big) man of the house, he has to stay vigilant, you know?

As Wilbur drapes himself over the couch after dinner, Tommy takes note of how his older brother’s eyes follow your movements around the house with a faint smirk— almost a smile. 

What?

It takes Tommy a few seconds to realize you’re talking to him. He tunes in to your voice and manages to catch the tail end of the conversation;

“... the creeper unfortunately got stuck in the brewing room, so now I’ve lost half of everything in there. It shouldn’t be too hard to replenish the supply though, since Wilbur’s agreed to help and he’s quite good at potions.” 

At that, Wilbur glances down and fiddles with an old tear in his sweater, lips twitching into a smile. 

What?

The threads in Wilbur’s sweater  accidentally start to come loose and his brow furrows, tangling his fingers in the strings as he tries to tug them free– but that only worsens the tear.

“...But it will still cause a delay, so we’ll have to postpone that visit to the Beloved_ household. I’ve already asked Philza to send a crow—Wilbur, what are you doing?”

Wilbur freezes, looking up from the growing mess he’s making of his sweater collar. He coughs and averts his eyes, trying to come up with an explanation but falls silent when you make your way over to him and gently pry his hands from the tear. Wilbur lets his hands fall to his side, not moving from his reclining position on the couch as he lets you do your thing.

“I’m only tying and tucking in the threads here, so I’ll need to bring it to the village to be fixed.” You say as you fix the tear in his sweater, looking up when you’re finished. 

“Thanks.” Wilbur says quietly, smiling. 

Surprisingly, you return the smile— then promptly let go of his sweater and resume tidying up your office space on the other side of the room.

What. 

As soon as you move back into the kitchen to rummage around for some plates, Tommy leans in to hiss in Wilbur’s ear. “Okay, what the fuck is going on? What was that?”

“Hm?” Wilbur lifts his head to look at Tommy. “What was what?”

“That.” Tommy gestures to Wilbur’s sweater, then at you.  

Wilbur blinks, looking for a moment like a deer in headlights. He regained his composure, lips slowly spreading into a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Tommy opens his mouth to argue further, but the sounds of plates being set on the table snapping him out of it. “Fine.” He mutters reluctantly to Wilbur as he goes to help you set the table. “But you are helping me wash the dishes after this.”

Wilbur snorts. “Fat chance.”

The tension continues throughout dinner, submerging the three in silence as the sounds of cutlery against plates echoed through the room. You eyed the two boys across from you. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask warily. 

Tommy hesitated, scowling, but Wilbur cut him off. 

“All good!” He says lightly, stirring his stew. Tommy’s eyes narrow further— and so do yours, although for different reasons. 

“Right.” You say suspiciously. “Anyway, I’ll be going out to find a crow and send that letter after dinner.”

“I can—“

“I’ll go with you.” Tommy cuts Wilbur off, sending him a dirty glare. 

“Neither of you will be coming with me. It’s dark out, and two people will only attract more attention from the monsters. Besides, someone has to make sure Wilbur doesn’t steal my stuff.” You give each of them a pointed look.  

“What a low opinion you have of me, darling.” Wilbur grins, but he concedes and takes another sip of the soup. 

As soon as the soup is finished, you get up and begin gathering the plates. Tommy stands with you, helping you bring them over to the sink. 

“Wilbur, can you help Tommy wash the dishes tonight?” You call over your shoulder as you grab your coat from the closet. 

“Of course.” Wilbur agrees, leaning against the wall. 

“Great.” You button up the coat and ruffle Tommy’s hair. “See you later, then.” 

Just before leaving, you gave Wilbur a swift peck to the cheek. “Goodbye to you, too.” 

You leave the house, leaving your two stunned guests in the living room. 

Tommy was yammering and protesting about something next to his ear, but Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to care. He stared at the door you had just left through, a stupid smile on his face. 

Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Yes there will be a part 5. 

It will be headcanons though, not a full fic

credit for the divider goes to @firefly-graphics

[sapphicworldttrpg]

November 2023 Sapphicblog - Girlbits & Bobs

Wield my armaments, babe!

Welcome to the first of many Sapphicblogs, where I explain monthly updates to Sapphicworld's Playtest Edition! You're currently looking at the Tumblr version of this blog, which lacks in-depth details and thoughts about the development process present in the Patreon version. Subscribe to the Sapphicworld Patreon for more!

November was very focused on sharpening the game, filling in corners and expanding underdeveloped mechanics. I did a lot of things I've been procrastinating on for a while, and gave many characters extra love and 'placeness' in the setting.

What is 'placeness'? Well, when you look at any element of Sapphicworld, I want it to be clear where it fits in the world, and if a place is referred to I want it to be playable. This month's updates were focused on sharpening and enabling this vision of the game. With that, the list of new things!

November Additions

A 256 color palette for Sapphicworld (Duel by Arilyn), split up by Land!

Tons of new Relic and NPC art.

The Chimaeryn Most-Foul and its inhabitants, a coterie of necromancers and their undead army.

The Petrified Tangle, the sculpture garden of our beloved and petrifying Calcium Lady.

Rathold, (you pronounce the th with gusto), the fortress of The Brat Rats.

Operator Iris' Dollhouse, a place where you can shrunk down and glared at by gorgeous women.

Copy Manifold, a tunnel that leads down toward the strange, clone-spitting Heavenhead Engine.

New challenges for almost every Architecture, to make adventures more deep and exciting.

Final touches to The Birth Sore, a hidden land, as well as a secret 'Horror' and a special Relic.

Three new bikers: slimegirl Gug, snakegirl Aughnom, and vulturefreak Burndeep.

The Sea Surgeon, a new Title about recovering from a near-death experience and healing others.

The Northern Anomaly, a Relic exclusive to The Sea Surgeon that bends time itself.

Changespitter, a Relic which allows you to shoot d66 transformations at people.

Champion's Loop, a silly fighting game headband that ties into a coming Campaign.

Reworks to a variety of moves.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

by Gareth Lee Cockerill | The way in which the manifold development of the Land promise in the OT foreshadows, pictures, and typifies the ultimate destiny of the people of God provides a rich resource for understanding the purposes of God. Its fulfillment in the New Creation through Christ prevents the “spiritualization” of the ultimate destiny of God’s people. Despite…

[stumblngrumbl]

occasionally it's good to procrastinate projects

last year i replaced the irrigation pump and since the new one is submersible (it sits inside the water holding tank, pushes water straight out) instead of being a shallow well jet pump (which sits outside of the tank, sucks water and pushes it) all of the hookups are totally different

i was in a hurry last year so i only set up the most important connection, so the water line coming out of the tank just goes to a filter and then to the rest if the irrigation system

and the subsidiary water lines local to that part of the land (barely visible on the right side of the pic) were left disconnected for "later"

i had all of the parts ready to install

basically the line coming up from the tank was going to hit that "wye" (the Y shaped piece), i was going to add a valve to more easily isolate the pump for service, and the "E" shaped manifold was going to be set up to connect to those subsidiary lines

however, i didn't get around to doing it last year

and today i took another look at it and was glad for the delay

because the way i was going to set it up last year, the three lines weren't going to get filtered (not ideal), and what's more, when they would get fed by water flowing from the pressure tank (off screen to the left about 100m), that water would have back flushed the filter right into those lines (way worse than not being filtered at all)

instead i will put a Tee ("T" shaped connector) after the filter (to its left) and then have the manifold be fed from that Tee; all of the water reaching the manifold and its three connected lines will be filtered, whether fed directly by the pump or indirectly via the pressure tank

so see, don't get too stressed if you slack a project

there's probably a good reason for it

[shopmoonymoss]

pre-order is now up !!

and i ordered a test batch of them !! so as soon as they arrive ill show you them irl !!

[guesswho873]

Can you do some Lee!Jack Manifold?

Art/Fic/Prompt XD

oh!! you're back!! welcome!! :D it's been long

i will go by fic.

Summary: when there was no one around Wilbur decided to spend some time with jack,jack manifold.

Note: this has swearing, and this is NOT a ship fic.

Ok you can read this now,

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

spending some time together

So...

wilbur got out of the van to see the beauty of lmanburg ,he was enjoying the breeze, and the peace and- wait? peace? with tommy and other there, no way.

that's when wilbur noticed that no one was around, he went to some places but still no one was around, but why?

that's when he saw the new member of lmanburg jack, jack manifold.

he joined a few weeks ago,now only wilbur realised he never really talked with him, and this seems like a good time, and besides he don't know if he should trust him or not.

he got closer to the man who was practicing with his sword.

wilbur went behind him and said "you know? hitting air doesn't do shit."

jack flinched, he did not expected wilbur to be right there.

"y-yes sir! s-sorry" jack said and put his sword away and said

"i-i wall do something mor-" jack tried to tell but wilbur said

"no! no it was a joke!! i was just kidding" wilbur said scratching back of his next.

"o-oh yeah, haha good one... sir" jack made a obvious fake laugh.

"no jack, relax you don't have to fake laugh or act formal.." wilbur said.

"ok sir" jack said as they stood there for some awkward mins just staring into each other's soles.

'this is more awkward than my first date, the fuck?!?" wilbur thought and searched for a topic to talk about.

"wanna......practice together?" wilbur said and took out his sword.

"yes sir!" jack said and took out his sword.

wilbur rolled his eyes at the formal response.

and the practice started and they had a match, it didn't take long before wilbur realised that jack was losing on purpose, he frowned

"jackmanifold! we are going to have a match, and if you lose on purpose, i am kicking you out of this land!!" wilbir said not really meaning it.

"what!?" jack said

"so you were losing on purpose?!" wilbur said frowning again.

jack just looked down and said "i'm sorry,sir"

"you better not repeat this again" wilbir replied and raised his sword.

and the rematch took place, and wilbur was not expecting jack to be this good, it was way better than the other matches.

wilbur had a hard time dodging and hitting jack, jack used the surroundings as well to fight.

But at last Wilbur got the upper hand and Jack's sword fell on the ground h, also tripped back, and Wilbur brought his sword at Jack's neck and smirked.

"Your tricks were good, but not grea-" before he can finish his sentence, jack tossed sand onto his face, Wilbur fumbled back and coughed.

Jack wasted no time and picked up his sword, Wilbur collected himself together but it was too late, jack knocked Wilbur sword out of his hand and attacked him, now the roles were reversed.

"Ok ugh, I give up!" Wilbur said and jack lowered his sword, with the smug race and shrugged and said "easy" and looked at his eyes and continued with a smug voice "sir" and wilbur's ego couldn't take that.

"Oh, You're so dead, let's rematch!! now!!" Wilbur said and jack agreed.

And that one match turned into many, they really had fun laughing, joking, and roasting eachother.

And on one match, jack was too low on health, so he ran to buy some time while eating to gain some health back.

But Wilbur was right behind him chasing, but jack managed to hide in a tree and breath for a sec.

He saw wilbur running passed the tree that he was hiding so he came down, and ran back to where they were fighting, he finally reached the place and took long breaths.

But before he could move, someone grabbed him from behind, it was wilbur.

Jack struggled,he squirmed and kicked to get out but no use, "leave me now!" jack said, he let go off his formal talk, and wilbur didn't care.

But it was getting hard and hard to hold jack still, so he tightened his grip on his hand, but since he wrapped his hands around Jack's torso area he accidentally squeezed Jack's sides, that got jack off guard and he squeaked and closed his mouth.

Everything went silent, no one was moving, then wilbur realised what had just happened, he smiled or more like,smirked.

Jack started to struggle again, wilbur said in a teasing voice "can you explain what was just that~?"

"Explain what? Noth-*gasp* hehey! Wihihihlbuhahar haha whahahit!" jack started to giggle when Wilbur started to put circles in his sides.

"What? I thought you said it was nothing? What's wrong~ huh?" wilbur asked with a grin.

"nOhoh ahaha, sthohohp! thahahahaht tic- ahHAhaha- wilbur!" jack blushed he was squirmed even more.

"what? is this not enough? you want more?" wilbur said and suddenly squeezes and wiggled his fingers in jack's sides.

"ah- NOhhohohoHo hahaHhHahAHHAhaha, stHOhohop! thhihihihs IHIhis chehHAHheheting!" kack tried even more to escape out of wilbur's grip, but it was no ues.

"and who made the rules agin?" wilbur's said in a sassy way, and jack couldn't answer, his knees gave up, and he melted onto the floor

but wilbur did not make it easy for him, he followed him down, not stopping ones.

"NOHohhoHo! leheHEahahave mehehhe lohahahahahne!! yohaUHAU dihihiHIHIHcikheHEHEAhabad!!" jack said still squirming like a worm.

"*gasp* sir to a dickhead?!? jesus,have some respect!" wilbur said speeding his fingers up and down.

"Ah- HAHAahahahhaAhaHA!! NOHohohohohHoh! wiHIHIhihl!!" jack tried to get up, but the tickling and wilbur's grip was not letting him.

"where you- ptth- mate your face looks so red haha" wilbur giggled at jack's full red face, and this just made it worse.

"NOhohoHohHOhohoho! fuHAHUhahck yHOHOHUhhou!!" javk said as he covered his face with his hands.

"uh ah, no none of that~" wilbur's hands went to squeeze jack's ribs, and the hands came crashing down.

"NOhohohoHOHOHOH HAHAHA! WHIHIhihihil leHEHEHEHEts taKAHAHAhaha abhoHohohut thiHihHIHIHS!, PLHEAHAHSEhahaha!!" jack's already started to plead wilbur.

"omg, and i expect you to battle with us? after those monkey tricks, if one of them pin you and do THIS- *a raspberry on the neck* you gonna be laughing your ass off lihihke a bahahaby haha" wilbur giggled with jack, as he was trashing around.

"oHOHHOKAY HAHAAHAH thahahahaHAHT'S IHhihihit ihihihif HAHAhaha you doHOHON't StoHOHOHhohop thihihihihs in wihihihihl- HAhHAaHAHA-" jack tried to threaten wilbur, but it failed miserably when wilbur went back to his sides and torso.

"do what huh? beg me even more? you little baby?" wilbur said with confidence.

what he didn't expect is that jack put all his energy on his back, and knock him back.

before wilbur could realise what just happened, jack turned around and pinned one of wilbur's hand, and after some fighting jack managed to pin the other hand, and pinned it on top of his head.

"the FUCK!?!" wilbur exclaimed, and was trying to break out of jack's grip.

"huh? maybe those 'monkey tricks' do work, mr.president"

"j-jack let's talk about this" wilbur said even though he knew it wouldn't work.

"no mr.president, you see i am just a pathetic citizen, and see i didn't even knew what to do when you attacked me, so i am gonna learn from you now!!" jack said it with sarcasm.

"no there is no- PTTH- HAAHAHAHAHAHAH- THE FUHAHACK!!" wilbur started laughing hysterically when jack blowed a raspberry on his belly.

"IHIHIHIHIH DHIHIHIHIDN'T DOHOHOHOH HAHAHA THAAHHAahhahHHaht tohohohoh youououou hahaHAHA" wilbur said and squirmed left and right,to which jack replied,but still tickling his sides.

"you're the big'dubs, so this is fair" and continued with the raspberries, and wilbir was laughing hard.

"NOHOHOHHO HAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHAHAHAHASE, JAHHAHAHAHAHK STOHOHOHOHP!! HAHAHAHABA IIHIHYS SOHOHOHOH BAHAHAHAD HAHAHA!!" it wasn't even for two mins, and wilbur already was dying.

"omg, forget about me, fuck it, forget about the war, cuz all they need to do is to pin you and tickle you and looks like your will give in so easily,mr.president" jack said and stopped with the raspberries, but he was still lightly scratching on his sides.

"fuhahahHahak yohohoohu" that's all wilbur could get out of his mouth.

and jack frowned "hello? you still at MY mercy!" and to prove that he gave a quick squeeze in wilbur's hips, and wilbur squeaked so loud.

"nonononononono- wait jaHack ple-PLEHEHEHHEALE NOHOHHOHOHO HAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE! PLEHEHEAHAHASE HAHAHAHAHAH!!" wilbur went back to laughing like a mad man, when jack put both both hands to work, but still wilbur couldn't do anything.

"awww? is your hips so ticklish?? you couldn't stand it? hmmm~" jack may or may not have got this information from tommy.

jack drilled his fingers into wilbur's hips, and wilbur almost screamed.

"AHH- HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!HAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH JAHAHAHAHAHHAHAK THAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAH!!!" wilbur forgot how to even from a proper sentence, the ticklish shockwaves were too much.

it wasn't untill wilbur saw jack took a breath in to blow a raspberry again,he started to take some action,and he used a old trick.

wilbur picked up some of the sand beside him, and was ready to toss it in jack's face, but then jack noticed this and backed up. bingo

wilbur was waiting for this, he tossed the sand back on the ground,and tackled jack, but jack was not going down without a fight.

so after some wrestling, and rolling, wilbur finally got hold of jack and pinned him down.

"YES!! LET'S FUCKING GO!" wilbur said with excitement.

"THAT WAS MY TRICK, YOU PRICK!!" jack axclaimed.

"well, i used it more cleverly." wilbur said smirking.

"that's doesn't even- *groan* come on wiilbuuuur!!" jack said.

"hooooow unfortunate, you know i almost fell bad, so you know what i am gonna do?" wilbur asked.

"go fuck yourself?" jack joked.

"nope, even better i just gonna give you the freedom of choosing the spot!" wilbur said and it got jack off gaurd.

"whAt?!, ptth- wil, wil, WIL, you can't do this, come on man!" jack tried to reson with him, but as you would have guessed it, itdidn't work.

"i'm doing it right now, come on jaaaake~" wilbur teased by wiggling his fingers.

"oh my fucking god....." jack started to giggled , he don't know if it was cuz how stupid this is, or the anticipation.

jack can feel his face burning "come on!! juhahst go with it! you asshohohole!!" jack said.

"go wheeeeeereeeeee?~~~, idk jack you should be more specific~~" wilbur acted oblivious.

"i am nohohot sahahaying shit." jack covered his face as it burned even more.

"but there are just tooooooo mannny!! like your sides,belly,ribs,armpits, hips, and that's just the upper body, where it will tickle better? i have no idea, how sa-" jack cut him off.

"god! just SHUT UP!?!, wil, this would have been ended if you do it normaly!" jack said without thinking.

"oh? so you want me to do this?!" wilbur said, jack's whole face was bright red, and went silent.

okey, now wilbur kinda felt bad, but he still can some fun.

"nope, times up, you took a long time, so now i am gonna explore all of them, and you gonna rate them!"

"what?- no wait- hahahahhhaahhaah! i neheHEAhaahver agHEHERD to thHIHIHS hahahahaha!!" jack was back at it yet again.

"jahahahahck,i dihidn't even start mate?" wilbur said, he was just wiggling his fingers close to jack's armpits.

i knhohohow- WIHHIL haHAHAahHAHhah!!! fuhaahhahahahHAHAHAHhahk! haha" jack laughed as wilbur shot up his armpits unexpectedly.

"hmmm~ not bad,but it's got about my opinion, it's about your rating, so?" wilbur said continuing even when jack was squrimming around.

"ihHHIHH'M NOHOHOHOT TEhehehheHehelinhihig, idhihihiot HAhaahBaha!!" jack was stubborn as always.

"fine, then i will just keep going" wilbur demanded and started to ruthlessly scratching jack's armpits.

"EPP- HAHAHAhahahahHahahHAHAHAbahaha! ohohohoHOHOHLEY hahahahahHah fihhiHIHINE hahahah SIHihihHIhix hahaha HAHAHAHA!" jack said.

wilbur finally left his armpits, "okey!, hmmm where else?!" wilbur said and looked down at the breathless man, and then he got it, the knees.

jack saw wilbur turning around and strated to panic "wilbur NO- DON'T I CAN'T HANDLE IT! PLEASE" jack pleaded, as wilbur's hands were on jack's knees.

"oh yeah? how would you rate it?" wilbur asked lifting jack's legs a little bit.

...

jack didn't answer, "fine you left me with me no choice!, don't say i didn't warn ya!"

wilbur squeezed both of his knees, and the reaction was immediate, jack kicked his legs, but wilbur was still didn't leave them.

he closed his mouth, and burst out laughing so hysterically

"still don't wanna rate?" wilbur asked, and jack shook his head.

"you lived a good life, good bye" wilbur joked, and tickled both under the knees, and by jack's reaction,maybe wilbur wasn't joking.

"AH- HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHH!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO TEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEN HAHHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOHP!! HAHAHAHAHHA,!" jack finally said it, but the ticking did not stop.

"just a few more mins" wilbur said cooly and jacks's eyes widened.

"NOHOHOHOHOHO *squeak* HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!! WIHIHIHIHIHIL *hic* PLEHEHEHEHASE HAJAHAHAHAH!! MAHEHRHRHRRCY!! PLHEHEHEHESE!!" jack said almost in tears.

"ha! that's what you get for ticking the president!!" wilbur said it and backed off.

jack curled up, and rubbed his knees " you......... motherf*****" jack said breathlessly.

wilbur giggled and layed down near jack.

they talked quietly for sometime, and their eyelids began to drop.

"and other people should not hear about this, especially tommy, got it?" wilbur said as jack nodded.

maybe wilbur could trust jack.....

END

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

i am sorry this is so late, and I got lazy at the end so.....

Hope you like this

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Monday, April 8, 2024

march 26_April 8

Synaxis of the Archangel Gabriel

Troparion

Gabriel, commander of the heavenly hosts, / we who are unworthy beseech you, / by your prayers encompass us beneath the wings of your immaterial glory, / and faithfully preserve us who fall down and cry to you: / “Deliver us from all harm, for you are the commander of the powers on high!”

The Lord chose the Archangel Gabriel to announce to the Virgin Mary the Incarnation of the Son of God from Her to the great rejoicing of all mankind. Therefore, on the day after the Feast of the Annunciation, the day the All-Pure Virgin is glorified, we give thanks to the Lord and venerate His messenger Gabriel, who contributed to the mystery of our salvation.

Gabriel, the holy Archistrategos (Leader of the Heavenly Hosts), is a faithful servant of the Almighty God. He announced the future Incarnation of the Son of God to those of the Old Testament; he inspired the Prophet Moses to write the Pentateuch (first five books of the Old Testament), he announced the coming tribulations of the Chosen People to the Prophet Daniel (Dan. 8:16, 9:21-24); he appeared to Saint Anna (July 25) with the news that she would give birth to the Virgin Mary.

The holy Archangel Gabriel remained with the Holy Virgin Mary when She was a child in the Temple of Jerusalem, and watched over Her throughout Her earthly life. He appeared to the Priest Zachariah, foretelling the birth of the Forerunner of the Lord, Saint John the Baptist.

The Lord sent him to Saint Joseph the Betrothed in a dream, to reveal to him the mystery of the Incarnation of the Son of God from the All-Pure Virgin Mary, and warned him of the wicked intentions of Herod, ordering him to flee into Egypt with the divine Infant and His Mother.

When the Lord prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane before His Passion, the Archangel Gabriel, whose very name signifies “Man of God” (Luke. 22:43), was sent from Heaven to strengthen Him.

The Myrrh-Bearing Women heard from the Archangel the joyous news of Christ’s Resurrection (Mt.28:1-7, Mark 16:1-8).

Mindful of the holy Archangel Gabriel's manifold appearances and his zealous fulfillment of God’s will and confessing his intercession for Christians before the Lord, the Orthodox Church calls upon its children to pray to the great Archangel with faith and love.

The Synaxis of the Holy Archangel Gabriel is also celebrated on July 13. All the angels are commemorated on November 8.

VENERABLE MALCUS OF CHALCIS , MONK IN SYRIA  (4th c.)

The Life of Saint Malchus, the Captive Monk, was written by St. Jerome in his monastery in Bethlehem. The composition is original in that St. Jerome reports the solitary man telling his own life story to him.

I was an only child and tenant of a small farm at Nisibis. When my parents were coercing me to marry because I was the last descendant of the family and their sole heir, I told them that I preferred to be a monk. With what threats my father assailed me, with what coaxing my mother pursued me to betray my chastity, you can judge by the fact that I left both home and my parents.

In Bethlehem, St. Jerome writes the story Malchus told him since I could not go to the East because of the proximity of Persia and the Roman guard, I turned to the West, taking very few provisions, merely enough to keep me alive. To be brief, I finally reached the desert of Chalcis. There, having found a community of monks, I placed myself under their guidance, earning my living by the toil of my hands and curbing the lust of the flesh with fasting.

After many years, the thought occurred to me that I should return to my native land while my mother was still alive (I had heard of my father’s death) to comfort her in her widowhood. After her death, I could sell our possessions, give part of the proceeds to the poor, erect a monastery with another part, and (why should I blush to confess my infidelity) reserve the rest to take care of my own needs.

My Abbot protested that my desire to return home was a temptation from the Devil and that under a virtuous pretext lay concealed the snares of our ancient enemy; in other words, the dog was returning to its vomit.

Many monks, he said, had been deceived in this way, for the Devil never comes without disguises. When persuasion failed, he begged me on his knees not to desert him, not to ruin myself, not to look back having put my hand to the plough.

Alas, miserable creature that I am, I did not relent. He escorted me from the monastery as if he were attending a corpse in a funeral procession. Bidding me a last farewell, he said: “I see, my son, that you are marked by the brand of Satan. I do not seek the causes nor do I accept excuses. The sheep that leaves the sheepfold straightway exposes itself to the teeth of the wolf.”

I decided to travel in company to decrease the danger of surprise attack by nomad Saracens, always wandering back and forth on the road. There were about 70 in my company, men women and children. Suddenly, Ishmaelites, riding upon horses and camels, descended upon us in a startling attack. We were seized, scattered and carried off in different directions. A woman of the company and I fell by lot into the hands of the same master.

The slave Malchus is content tending sheep in solitude and prayerWe were lifted up onto camels and traveled through the vast desert until we arrived at its heart, where the master’s household was. There I was assigned the task of pasturing the sheep and, in contrast to the evils I might have been subjected to, I enjoyed the comfort of rarely seeing my master and fellow slaves.

Alone in the desert, I lived on cheese and milk; I prayed continually; I sang the psalms I had learned in the monastery. In fact, I was delighted with my captivity and I thanked God for his judgment, for the monk whom I had nearly lost in my own country I had found again in the desert.

But nothing is ever safe from the Devil. How multiple and unspeakable are his deceits. My master, seeing his herd increase and finding in me nothing of fraud – for I obeyed the Apostle’s injunction that masters were to be served as faithfully as God himself – desired to reward me to better insure my fidelity. So he offered me in marriage the woman slave who had been taken captive with me.

When I refused and said that I was a Christian and it was not lawful for me to have for wife one whose husband was living (her husband had been captured with us and carried off by another master), my implacable master was seized with fury. Drawing his sword he started to attack me. If I had not made haste to throw my arm about the woman, he would have shed my blood then and there.

All too soon for me, night came on, darker than usual. I led my new bride into a ruined cave nearby. Realizing the full force of my captivity and, throwing myself down on the ground, I began to lament and sob for the monk I was on the point of losing. “Of what avail to have renounced parents, country, property for the Lord, if I now do the very thing that I would not do when I renounced them. What shall I do, my soul, perish or conquer?”

Prepared to turn the blade of my sword against myself rather than suffer the death of the soul, I told the woman, “Farewell, unhappy woman. I am yours to have as a martyr rather than a husband.”

Then to my surprise, the woman threw herself at my feet and beseeched me not shed my blood, for she said, even if her husband would return to her, she would preserve the chastity that captivity had taught her and would rather die than lose it.

“Take me, therefore, as a spouse in chastity,” she said, “and love the bond of the soul rather than that of the body. Let our master believe you a husband; Christ will know the brother.”

I confess that I was amazed and, admiring the virtue of that woman, I loved her more than if she were my spouse. Never, however, did I look upon her nude body; never did I touch her flesh, fearing to lose in peace what I had preserved in conflict.

Many days passed in wedlock of this kind. Our marriage rendered us more pleasing to our master; there was no suspicion of flight. Sometimes I was absent for a whole month, all alone, the trusted shepherd of the flock...to be continued

ISAIAH 14:24-32

24 The Lord of hosts has sworn, saying, “Surely, as I have thought, so it shall come to pass, And as I have purposed, so it shall stand: 25 That I will break the Assyrian in My land, And on My mountains tread him underfoot. Then his yoke shall be removed from them, And his burden removed from their shoulders. 26 This is the purpose that is purposed against the whole earth, And this is the hand that is stretched out over all the nations. 27 For the Lord of hosts has purposed, And who will annul it? His hand is stretched out, And who will turn it back?” 28 This is the burden that came in the year that King Ahaz died. 29 “Do not rejoice, all you of Philistia, Because the rod that struck you is broken; For out of the serpent’s roots will come forth a viper, And its offspring will be a fiery flying serpent. 30 The firstborn of the poor will feed, And the needy will lie down in safety; I will kill your roots with famine, And it will slay your remnant. 31 Wail, O gate! Cry, O city! All you of Philistia are dissolved; For smoke will come from the north, And no one will be alone in his appointed times.” 32 What will they answer the messengers of the nation? That the Lord has founded Zion, And the poor of His people shall take refuge in it.

GENESIS 8:21-9:7

21 And the Lord smelled a soothing aroma. Then the Lord said in His heart, “I will never again curse the ground for man’s sake, although the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth; nor will I again destroy every living thing as I have done. 22 “While the earth remains, Seedtime and harvest, Cold and heat, Winter and summer, And day and night Shall not cease.”

1 So God blessed Noah and his sons, and said to them: “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth. 2 “And the fear of you and the dread of you shall be on every beast of the earth, on every bird of the air, on all that move on the earth, and on all the fish of the sea. They are given into your hand. 3 “Every moving thing that lives shall be food for you. I have given you all things, even as the green herbs. 4 “But you shall not eat flesh with its life, that is, its blood. 5 “Surely for your lifeblood I will demand a reckoning; from the hand of every beast I will require it, and from the hand of man. From the hand of every man’s brother I will require man's life. 6 “Whoever sheds man’s blood, By man his blood shall be shed; For in the image of God He made man. 7 And as for you, be fruitful and multiply; Bring forth abundantly in the earth And multiply in it.”

[zoydraft]

What forms of agency are present in this pack?

I don't know exactly what I mean yet. This is pre-work for a possible article influenced by C. Thi Nguyen's Games: Agency as Art. If I get a good idea of agencies, the next step would be identifying the aesthetic experience that those agencies foster.

Basic game actions: playing creatures; attacking; blocking.

Playing spells from graveyards

Judge's Familiar creates choices for both the controller and the opponent. Is countering this spell worth losing a 1/1 flyer and the future (vanishing) opportunity to counter something else? Is it worth playing around the onboard effect, or do I want to try clearing a path for future spells?

I'm not sure whether ramping itself meets my expectations for what counts as agency; or it may be encompassed in "basic game actions" (which count as agency, but aren't particularly interesting w/r/t cube design). Rampant Growth specifically creates the choice of which lands to grab, and gives you the ability to shuffle.

Bonecrusher Giant and this style of Adventure basically follow basic game actions. The choice of casting Stomp or the creature often feels trivial, and a damage spell is a basic game action.

Kiora and Manifold Key both add untapping to the agential space, which can allow a lot of new behavior.

Fact or Fiction is Fact or Fiction.

To be continued, maybe.

[bobduh]

The 100 Girlfriends Who Really, Really, Really, Really, REALLY Love You - Episode 4

Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I figured we’d take a stroll back to the land of 100 Girlfriends, and see what fresh shenanigans are brewing with Rentaro and his swiftly expanding harem. Our last offered an efficient romance and a preposterously adorable new heroine, as the quiet librarian Shizuka found herself bowled over by Rentaro’s manifold charms. And why not? The…