#Prudent Gabriel

[nghubs1]

PRUDENT GABRIEL BIOGRAPHY, EDUCATION, CAREER, CONTROVERSIES AND NET WORTH

Prudent Gabriel is a renowned Nigerian fashion designer known for her unique and original designs. As the Executive Director of Prudential Fashion Academy and CEO of Prudential Styling, she has made significant contributions to the fashion industry by styling celebrities and providing fashion education. PRUDENT GABRIEL PROFILE NamePrudent Gabriel Real NamePrudent Gabriel Date of Birth 12 August…

[within-your-eyes-if]

Chapter Three: Part One Release Tomorrow

Chapter 3 Part One is coming tomorrow (11/22 for me)!

I feel it'd be prudent to share this now because I know some of you will be very eager to jump into the story but there are important details I want you to be aware of.

First and foremost: Starting over is HIGHLY suggested, as there have been significant changes to the code. Your old saves will not work properly. But this also works because of the following first point:

Narrative Enhancements: As the story has unfolded, I've realized that certain elements were somewhat weak and needed more refining, while others seemed a bit 'out-of-the-blue.' These points hadn't been fully explored yet, except maybe vaguely in the Codex. To address this, I've added more foreshadowing in previous chapters and expanded and edited some Codex entries. I hope these changes provide a clearer understanding of the world and its lore.

Codex Update: While some new entries were added and a few expanded upon, I will be adding more in a future update. I'm just very tired and need a short rest to recharge my brain. I hope you understand and I appreciate your patience on the matter!

Gabriel and Lee Poly Route: As we delve into the complexities of a polyamorous route with Gabriel and Lee, it's important to note that their relationship begins with some jealousy. They are still at the early stages of getting to know each other, and this emotion is a natural part of their dynamic at this stage. Without revealing too much, I believe it's essential to acknowledge this upfront so you are all aware.

Emotional Depths: This chapter continues to tread through emotional terrain, and while it may seem heavy at times, these feelings are pivotal. They echo the profound events that have irrevocably altered the MC's life, and it's crucial to portray these events with the gravity they deserve.

Mind the Trigger Warnings: As we venture deeper, some story elements may be challenging. I urge you to read the trigger warnings provided at the start of the chapter and proceed in a way that respects your comfort and boundaries.

Lastly, I wanted to touch on the results of the height poll. It turns out I had misremembered male Gabriel's height ─ a reminder to always double-check! The majority of you expressed a preference for female Gabriel to match male Gabriel’s height. As for male Xiao, opinions were divided: many prefer his current height, while a significant number would like him shorter. I'm going to give these results some more thought. Your input was helpful, and I'll be sure to keep it in mind as the story continues to evolve. Thank you for participating!

Your patience and engagement mean the world to me. I'm eager for you to experience Part One and I hope it resonates with you. Another big shout out and huge thanks to my testers for their hard work and assistance with ensuring this part is ready for release! Your input was invaluable ♥

Thank you so much!

Total Word Count: 277,298 (excluding Codex)

[relia-robot-writes]

My Sweet

I wrote a short series of vampire fiction a while back, and given that it's spooky season it seemed prudent to bring it back - after all, I can't tell new stories without telling you the old ones. Please enjoy a high class board game cafe for bloodsuckers, a thing I truly wish existed in real life

Nessa got out of the hired car and stood, apparently, at the address she'd been invited to. "Oh, you've got to come with us to board game night," Gabby had said. "There's this great board game cafe on broad street, I'll text you the address." She had failed to mention that it was some kind of gothic castle.

Nessa supposed it wasn't that unusual - there were any number of old, unused churches in this style. Still. It had either been constructed or facaded very well with dark slate stone bricks, giving it a downright spooky look in the fading light. A pair of colorful flags fluttered in the autumn breeze outside the large oak doors, declaring that this was, in fact, the board game cafe she'd been looking for. No light issued from inside, even through what must have been the original stained glass windows.

Nessa found her mouth suddenly dry, and she swallowed nervously. She walked up the stairs, reached out her hand for the door, hesitated, then gingerly touched the handle. The door opened into a sort of coat-check waiting area, and a small bell rung. Too late to back out now. Nessa gulped again and stepped inside.

"Oh! Well, I haven't seen you around before." An elegantly-dressed woman with pale skin and flashing red eyes appeared behind the counter. "Aren't you just a delight? Welcome to the Raven's Loft. My name is Selene. This is your first time, isn't it?"

Nessa nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment. Selene's presence was... powerful. She tried to focus on something else.

"Oh, a shy one, hmm? That's all right. Let me take your coat, dear, we don't allow them in the main room, too bulky. There, that's better, isn't it?"

Nessa's cheeks felt warm. She'd worn a short red skirt and deep-cut blouse with platform boots, then chickened out and threw on the coat. Without it, she was cursing her earlier self's sudden bout of confidence.

As if she were reading Nessa's mind, Selene said, "You look lovely, dear. Now, one of my regulars told me she was hoping someone called Nessa would drop by. If that's you, then you should be able to find dear Gabrielle at table four, on the far side of the courtroom. I, unfortunately, must away to help my wife find a... wine, to pair with the desserts." With a sultry smile, Selene glided away, vanishing into the gloom behind the counter. Nessa swallowed again. Her throat felt parched.

She made her way through the double doors into a large, open room filled with people. Tapestries hung on the walls and dark colored silks hung from the ceiling, so the chatter was muted. She tugged on her skirt and looked for table number four.

"Nessa! You made it!" Gabby waved at her, smiling behind a heavy layer of gothic makeup. "I love your outfit. This is Ella and Jinx," she pointed to two more women with pale skin in gothic outfits, painted lips, and in one case, an actual corset. Nessa waved nervously.

"Ooh, you weren't kidding. She's cute," said Ella - or, was it Jinx? Nessa's cheeks went pink.

"And she blushes cute, too. Ooh, I could just eat her up!"

"Girls! Behave!" Gabby admonished them. "Now, let's put this one away and pick a nice four-player game.

Some time passed. The girls flirted with Nessa relentlessly, but fortunately Gabby was there to help her out... mostly. She seemed to enjoy making Nessa pink more than either of the others. Nessa ended up ordering a coffee just to have something to hide behind, which got several refills throughout the evening. As a result, she was already pretty jittery by the time the hosts came through with a dessert cart.

The cart had several different kinds of extraordinarily well-crafted desserts - a red candied apple full of sweet jam, a chocolate layer cake with dark rum-cherry frosting, strawberry macarons... Nessa's stomach rumbled as the others picked their decadence.

"And anything for you, madame?"

Nessa's speech was practiced. "No, thank you, I'm on a diet."

"We do offer a number of low-sugar or low-carb options. Perhaps a light raspberry parfait?"

Nessa's stomach rumbled again. She forced a smile onto her face. "No, thank you!"

"Very well, madame."

The waiter left, and Jinx - or was it Ella? Broke open her candied apple shell and began to scoop up bright-red jam with the shards. "You really ought to try this, Nessa, diet or no diet. The desserts here are to die for," she grinned, and Nessa swore she could see a sharp fang behind the smile.

Nessa gulped. "I- I really shouldn't-" her stomach growled again, even louder this time.

Gabby placed a concerned hand on her knee, and she jumped. "Nessa, have you not eaten today?"

Nessa couldn't look her in the eye. Her coffee-jittered fingers drummed on the table.

"Oh, I keep telling you to take better care of yourself! Come with me." Gabby grabbed Nessa by the wrist and pulled her along towards the counter at the long edge of the room. The girls tittered as Nessa was drawn along by Gabby's surprisingly strong grip.

Then, before they could get to the counter, Gabby made an abrupt turn into the women's room.

Before Nessa could say anything, she'd been pushed into one of the stalls. Gabby locked it behind her. "Honestly", she said, closing the lid and sitting down, "you don't have to deny yourself like this." She took her choker off and Nessa's gaze was suddenly laser-focused on her neck.

"B-but, I was doing so well! I was fine, honestly, it was j-just... all the... red..." The pulse in Gabby's neck was hypnotizing.

Gabby reached up and pulled Nessa closer, her grip inexorable on the back of her neck. They kissed, and Nessa tasted chocolate. She shuddered. Gabby pulled her closer, and whispered into her ear. "My blood sugar's topped off. Nobody will find out. Now's the perfect time. I trust you."

Nessa's resolve faltered, and she sank her fangs deep into Gabby's neck. Gabby moaned softly. Her blood tasted so sweet, rum and chocolate and cherries, and there was so much, cascading down her throat, giving life to the flush in her cheeks, quenching finally her deep, deep thirst.

Nessa came up for air, finally, and held Gabby up. She had a slow, dreamy expression on her face, and she nuzzled herself into Nessa's chest. "Mmmmm, see?" She said, slowly. "I told you it would all be okay."

"You've gone completely boneless," said Nessa. "How are we going to explain this to your friends?"

"Oh, we'll just tell them we had sex, it'll be fiiiine."

"What!?"

See this post, an alternate, 18+ ending, and sequels on Dreamwidth

[talonabraxas]

The Orphic Hymn to the Moon Hear, Goddess queen, diffusing silver light, Bull-horn'd, and wand'ring thro' the gloom of Night. With stars surrounded, and with circuit wide Night's torch extending, through the heav'ns you ride: Female and male, with silv'ry rays you shine, And now full-orb'd, now tending to decline. Mother of ages, fruit-producing Moon, Whose amber orb makes Night's reflected noon: Lover of horses, splendid queen of night, All-seeing pow'r, bedeck'd with starry light, Lover of vigilance, the foe of strife, In peace rejoicing, and a prudent life: Fair lamp of Night, its ornament and friend, Who giv'st to Nature's works their destin'd end. Queen of the stars, all-wise Diana, hail! Deck'd with a graceful robe and ample veil. Come, blessed Goddess, prudent, starry, bright, Come, moony-lamp, with chaste and splendid light, Shine on these sacred rites with prosp'rous rays, And pleas'd accept thy suppliants' mystic praise. Queen of the stars, all-wife Diana hail! Deck'd with a graceful robe and shining veil; Come, blessed Goddess, prudent, starry, bright, Come moony-lamp with chaste and splendid light, Shine on these sacred rites with prosp'rous rays, And pleas'd accept thy suppliant's mystic praise. Archangel Gabriel 'Moon Temple' Talon Abraxas

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Angelique Chrisafis at The Guardian:

A leftwing alliance has become the biggest force in the French parliament after tactical voting held back the far right, but the shape of the future government remained uncertain after no group won an absolute majority. The surprise result for the leftwing New Popular Front – which won 182 seats, followed by president Emmanuel Macron’s centrist Together alliance on 163 and the far right in third with 143 seats – showed the strength of tactical voting against Marine Le Pen’s National Rally (RN). The far right and its allies had forged a commanding lead in the first round but were ultimately held back by massive tactical voting to prevent them winning enough seats to form a government.

Although the left alliance won the most seats, it was more than 100 seats short of an absolute majority. Amid a high turnout estimated at about 67%, no single group won an absolute majority of 289 seats and the ability to form a government. The parliament was likely to be divided into three blocs: the left, centrists and the far right. France now enters a period of unprecedented uncertainty over the shape of its future government and its likely prime minister. Macron has promised to remain as president, but he did not speak publicly on Sunday night, privately calling after exit polls were released for people to be “prudent” until the final results were clear on Monday morning. It could now take weeks to establish a government and it was unclear what shape that government could take with the Olympic Games due to begin in Paris in less than three weeks.

The prime minister, Gabriel Attal, announced that he would hand his resignation to president Macron on Monday morning. But he also said he could stay in place for the short term, if required, while a new government was formed. “Tonight, a new era begins,” he said, adding that France’s destiny would play out “more than ever in parliament”. Attal said: “I know that, in the light of tonight’s results, a lot of French people feel uncertainty about the future because no majority has emerged. Our country is in an unprecedented political situation and is preparing to welcome the world [at the Olympics] in a few weeks. I will stay in my role as long as duty requires.”

Jockeying for position in the new parliament began instantly. Jean-Luc Mélenchon, leader of the leftwing La France Insoumise party, said: “The president must invite the New Popular Front [left alliance] to govern.” The outgoing interior minister, Gérald Darmanin, said: “I note that today, no one can say they have won this legislative election, especially not Mr Mélenchon.”

Raphaël Glucksmann of Place Publique and the Socialist party, part of the left alliance, said: “We’re ahead, but we’re in a divided parliament … so we’re going to have to act like grownups. We’re going to have to talk, to discuss, to engage in dialogue.” Despite placing third, the results were historic for the RN – representing its biggest ever score in a parliamentary election, and an increase from the 88 seats it had when parliament was dissolved last month. But it was much lower than the party had expected after it topped the vote in the first round last week. Jordan Bardella, the RN president, said the parties who had teamed up to stop the far right were a “disgraceful alliance”. Le Pen, who intends to run for president for the far right in 2027, said the far right’s rise to power would continue. She said: “The tide is rising. It did not rise high enough this time, but it continues to rise and our victory has simply been deferred.”

In France, the far-right led by Jordan Bardella and Marine Le Pen have been dealt a big defeat, as the left and center wisely teamed up to prevent that from happening. The winner with the most seats will be the left-wing Nouveau Front populaire (New Popular Front) and Emmanuel Macron’s centrist Ensemble (Together) will be 2nd.

[claudehenrion]

La vérité sur Gabriel Attal... et notre futur proche.

Si l'on en croit la totalité des gazetiers lévogyres de toute couleur rose foncée qui polluent le microcosme germanopratin (NDLR : c'est étrange comme tout change, dans le monde, sauf la teinte politique des journaleux : ils ont ''tout faux'', et sur tout... mais ils refusent de le reconnaître !), notre ''young leader'' et premier ministre, n'aurait qu'une seule qualité et qu'une caractéristique : il est jeune... comme si la jeunesse était une excuse et pouvait ternir lieu de ''projet'', et comme si l'inexpérience absolue pouvait être une qualité...

L'avantage, chers amis-lecteurs, qu'il peut y avoir à être abonné à un ''Blog'' comme celui-ci, c'est que vous avez la quasi-certitude de recevoir, ''en avant-première'', des informations ''de derrière les fagots'' qui vous permettront parfois de briller dans les emm.. nuyeux ''dîners-en-ville'' où il est bien vu de sortir une information que les autres n'ont pas.. Et ce matin, comme cela m'arrive de temps en temps, je vais servir une rafale de bottes secrètes passionnantes : je les tiens du cousin berrichon (par son père.. parce que, du côté de sa mère, ce serait plutôt moitié breizh, moitié auvergnat et moitié ariégeois) de mon amie Madame Michu –un ''gens généralement bien informés'' dont les exploits, narrés par Coluche, ont enchanté nos ''années 80''.

Gabriel Attal est, incontestablement, djeunz... au point que certains émettent souvent des doutes sur sa capacité à régner sur ''un pays où il existe 258 variétés de fromages'', pour reprendre cette jolie définition que donnait le Général. Comme on pouvait s'y attendre, la presse s'est ruée sur cette chance formidable : pouvoir répéter, sans en changer un mot, ce que vos chers con frères (que je préfère écrits en deux mots, vous savez ça !) ont déjà recopié sur ceux qui l'avaient lu ailleurs et rapporté. Nous croulons donc littéralement sous le même récit colporté cent et bientôt mille fois, de la vie de ce petit garçon moqué et harcelé qui a été déclaré ''Djeunz'' avant même d'avoir eu le temps d'être ''jeune''. Tout ce qu'il connaît de la vie, c'est qu'il ne sait rien de la vie... Et, nous explique-t-on avec l'air componctueux, c'est ça le mieux, pour diriger un pays. Moi, je veux bien (façon alambiquée de dire : je n'y crois pas une seconde !).

Il n'a manqué à personne qu'il manque à cette analyse... le principal : le thème astrologique de ce fort en thème... Fort heureusement pour vous, votre blogueur personnel est là pour pallier cette lacune, avec l'aide inévaluable de la célèbre Natacha S., astrologue-conseil à Ciboure (c'est ''dans le soixante-quatre'' !) qui se présente, sur le site ''Planète point fr'' comme ''astrologue chevronnée ayant plus de trente ans d'expérience''. (NDLR : on n'est jamais assez prudent, par les temps qui courent, avec tous ces migrants qui courent aussi... mais plus vite que les flics qui voudraient bien les rattraper pour que des juges –inscrits au syndicat rouge dit de la magistrature isochrome-- les relâchent sans relâche...). Comme d'autres, cette experte digne de con courir avec Mc Kinsey pour ponctionner nos budgets déjà défaillants –et même défaillis !-- est formelle : il est né le 16 mars 1989 à 13 h 35 à Clamart (c'est dans le département quatre-vingt-douze, béni, depuis), et il a donc le Soleil en Cancer (à 28°17') et la Lune en Bélier (à 5°33), ce qui change tout...

Mais tout ceci n'est rien : ses Dominantes sont Cancer, Poissons, Capricorne, Lune, Saturne, Soleil et ses Maisons 9, 12, 6 / Eau, Terre / Cardinal, ce qui devrait retenir votre attention. Car ''se trouver en poisson avec un ascendant Cancer... fait éclater une personnalité d'eau, marquée par l'intuition et la douceur... ce qui force l'attention''. (je n'invente rien). Et en plus de toutes ces merveilles, il a une Lune puissante –mais non, voyons ! Ce n'est pas ce que vous croyez : cet édito s'interdit de parler de ce qui n'est pas astral chez Attal et vice-versa-- ''ce qui lui permet de capter l'air du temps avec aisance''. En lisant ça, j'ai été rassuré : imaginez qu'au lieu de capter l'air avec sa Lune et avec aisance, il ait, par exemple, bu la tasse ou craché le morceau ! Ouf ! Dans notre manque de pot, on a du pot ! On doit avoir Saturne... là où vous pensez !

Mais avançons, s'il vous plaît : j'ai été vraiment heureux de constater que la conjonction (en un seul mot, s'il vous plaît : c'est notre PM !) du Soleil et de Vénus en Poissons souligne son habileté à nager dans l'eau au milieu de projets complexes ! Mais je ne vais pas vous faire mariner davantage : ''Il a trois planètes dans sa Maison neuf (et non pas ''neuve'' comme on l'aurait écrit normalement). Cette maison-là est celle de l'humanisme, qui ''élève l'être humain au dessus de sa condition de bête '' --sic ! (NB : je me disais bien, aussi : pour être premier ministre à 34 ans, faut pas être bête !). Mais tout n'est pas rose, malgré ses origines socialistes : la conjonction de Mars et Jupiter (pas Macron... l'autre, si j'ai bien compris !) souligne une forme d'hyper activité (ça, comme dit l'autre, on l'avait remarqué !).

Une conclusion ? Comme il se répète, partout dans Landerneau et à la Lanterne qu'on le jugera sur ses succès (dont le système et le club Bildenberg ont déjà la liste impressionnante, prête depuis bien avant sa nomination officielle), on ne doit tirer de cette magnifique analyse astrale attale... qu'il ne faut pas conclure ! Flaubert, d'ailleurs, ne disait-il pas que ''seuls les imbéciles veulent conclure'' ? Une remarque, tout de même : le patron de notre nouvelle star astrologique aurait pu faire l'économie d'une conférence (en un mot, ici : c'est le président !) de presse pour nous faire découvrir ex nihilo ''SES'' projets pour ''NOTRE'' futur... lui qui a été élu sans le moindre programme et qui nous un impose un, soudain, concocté tout seul dans son coin, à la manière de ces autocrates qu'il feint de critiquer mais dont il imite servilement le comportement.

Le message qu'il va nous emboquer (il y en a pour 2 heures et demi... ) va sans doute tourner autour de ''tout va mieux, on progresse, on a déjà fait 60 ou 70 % du chemin'', et de ''unis, nous vaincrons'' (Question : ''pourquoi plus il nous impose de ses faux progrès, plus les gens sont malheureux ?). Ensuite, je parie qu'il va énumérer les centaines d'actions ponctuelles qui vont (ou pas !) nous tomber sur la cafetière dans les jours qui viennent. Que d'indigestions en perspective ! Mais on est ''rodés'', et personne n'y croit plus. Après ''un premier ministre pour la galerie'', une ''conférence de presse pour rien''... C'est quand, ''la quille'' ? 

H-Cl.

[rosesandalfazemas]

Oblivion

ENGPORT - Drabble - Forgotten AU. Based on this.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-five minutes.

“Stop!”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-six minutes.

“Wait!”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-seven minutes.

"Hey!”

“Excuse me, I'm sorry...”

He got up and ran again at full speed, not stopping to help whoever had crashed at the next corner. He received some insults and indignant looks in a foreign language, but he kept his head up, his eyes fixed and unblinking.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.

There were a lot of people at that hour in the center of Prague, but he would not fail, not this time. Even if he was run over by traffic; even if the police took him to jail for riots before the stupefied eyes of tourists and locals.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.

Granted, he was crazy. Granted, he had already lost all the manners that always distinguished him among his own. But what matters?

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes.

He must not lose sight of that head, that hair.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes and thirty seconds.

He swore, he felt, that this time he was not wrong.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes and fifty seconds.

A red light gave him the only opportunity in a long time.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and forty minutes.

“Gabriel!!”

Time stopped, like his destroyed body from running so many kilometers. He had trotted through half the city; but he didn't care about that, or the burning in his muscles, or his burst sternum crying out for oxygen.

Only eyes the color of the sea that turned to see him, curious, upon hearing his name.

“Oh God... it's you... I knew it... “ he whispered with a half smile, without taking his eyes off him  “Finally... finally...”

The aforementioned turned around completely, moving away from the cluster of people to see him better. There was almost half a block between them, but neither of them would advance.

"Hmn, hello," the boy said sheepishly, holding his travel backpack and adjusting his half-tied brown hair, falling to his shoulders. English was not his native language, but he knew how to pronounce it well.

"I... hello," the Brit continued more calmly. He straightened up and sighed, finishing accommodating the air in his lungs and slowly walking towards the other “ I can't believe it. I don't understand what happened, where were you? What happened to you?”

“... What?”

"Yeah, it's confusing. One day the earth simply swallowed you and no one knew anything about you anymore. I looked for you everywhere, including in the Oniric World; I owe favors to half the magical population” he said mockingly, and continued walking “But it doesn't matter, because I finally found you after all this time, Gabe, and I...”

“Woah!” the dark-haired man made a stop gesture for him to stop approaching. The blonde raised an eyebrow.

“I know, I know. I'm talking a lot, but I'm nervous” he scratched his head, suppressing the desire to press him against him, cry and kiss him in public “; you already know how I am.”

"No, actually I have no idea.”

The answer caused an awkward silence between the two, while people seemed to not walk near those two.

“... You have no idea?”

"Uhm... I don't know who you are," he clarified slowly, looking at him prudently. “ You called me by name and said all these things; but I really don't know you, senhor.”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, five hours.

“What... ?” the blonde half smiled. "You're kidding, right? It's not a nice joke now, Gabe. I was very worried...”

"It's not my funny face," he pointed out, seriously. “And I don't know if you're playing a trick on me. I don't know who he is or what you want from me”.

No, it wasn't a joke. Not at all. Gabriel's eyes were honest.

It couldn't be.

"...I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland” pointed to his chest taking another step, in shock “The United Kingdom, England”

"Yeah you’re clearly from there” he answered, holding the backpack by the handles. “But I don't know any Arthur.”

“No... no...”

The britain hands began to shake and he had to hold them to avoid making a show. He stammered unconnected things, biting his mouth to silence the sob of tears falling down his cheeks, his pupils wide open.

“I'm sorry I'm not that Gabriel, I can see you’re suffering a lot” the dark-haired man then narrowed down, feeling guilty when he noticed the anguish “Do you want us to notify the police? Maybe they can help you.”

England didn't know whether to split the sky with lightning and strike down all the humans there, out of sheer spite; fall to their knees and scream, or start laughing wildly. Or all at once.

It wasn't happening, it wasn't happening.

“...”

“Sir?”

“... Just...” he took a breath to speak “...forgive me. I have no bad intentions” he said then, spinning the words to sound coherent “. I was looking for my husband for years, because he disappeared.”

"Oh Deus, I'm so sorry!" The other took a step towards him. “It must be terrifying.”

"You have no idea... Gabriel" he whispered, his reality falling apart in front of him without remedy. Because not only Portugal didn’t remember who he was, but it seemed that he had no idea what he was as well. “I'm really sorry.” He wiped away the tears.

“No, it's okay... erm... do you want me to go with you somewhere?”

“Haha, no,” he replied. “I don't want to scare you anymore. I just have one question.”

“Yes?”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, five hours and twenty minutes.

“... Are you happy?”

Gabriel blinked in confusion, because none of this encounter made any sense. Why was about such a precise person? Maybe...

“Yes.”

Arthur bit his tongue.

“All right. It's the only thing that relieves me now” he smiled forcibly, avoiding his gaze. Would he have made a new life, far from everything they were? How was that even possible? “. Sorry to intrude you, Gabriel. Thanks.”

"If there's anything I can do...”

“Not anymore.”

That answer was colder than he had calculated, but he couldn't help it. Now he was sad and angry; not with him, but with his damn Fate. He turned his back on him, finishing accepting what had happened and began to walk, rigid, away from him. Thinking and not thinking. Thinking and not thinking.

"Arthur!" Gabriel ventured to call him by name; he took a few steps towards him, but the blonde didn't turn around again “Wait!”

He was confused and in some way that he did not understand why, hurt. Like an old pain without explanation.

Zero hour, forty minutes.

The multitude separated them again, losing them in the crowd of Prague.

Zero hour, forty-one minutes.

Zero hour, forty-two minutes...

[subliminalbointext]

Assimilation #2: The Master’s Plan

drink

At just thirty-five, Charlotte was the youngest tenured professor at Carpenter State University, a credit to her prudent life choices. Charlotte didn’t party in school. On the rare occasion that she went to a club, she insisted that every glass be poured in front of her. Her credit score was 800 and she’d never missed a student aid payment.

Charlotte was not the kind of woman to listen to strange voices. Especially not strange voices telling her to drink from a polluted swamp of inky black water.

But Charlotte’s mind didn’t belong to her anymore. When the voice commanded her to drink, she simply obeyed. She cupped her hands into the swamp and took a large gulp of its black water. The liquid was thick like milk. It didn’t settle in her stomach, rather, it was quickly absorbed into her body. She could feel it in her brains, her blood hot as it polluted her body and her mind.

The Master was claiming her.

Charlotte convulsed as the pleasure receptors in her brain fired off positive signals. She wanted more, needed more.

The people around her moaned as the Master flowed through them too. The Master had a plan to spread and it needed to test its new vessels. Pussies dripped and cocks stiffened. Charlotte too struggled for composure, her nipples hardening and her body aching for release. Her body had been claimed, and now she needed to share it with anyone she saw.

Women screamed as they came. Charlotte gripped on the edge of the strongest orgasm in her life.

Across the pond a busty young blonde dropped on all fours as a police officer took her from behind. The orgy spread from there, pairing off into indiscriminate groups. The vessels advanced upon one another, stripping off clothes, fucking the each other into mindless oblivion.

Charlotte felt a hand on her breast as her chest heaved. It was her student, Gabrielle, no doubt drawn to her by their relationship in the world outside. Charlotte unclasped her bra and slid her soaked panties down her legs. It wasn’t just a desire, but a need to be fucked. Gabrielle pulled down the straps of her dress. The tight outfit slid down her toned body, revealing Gabrielle’s perky, young breasts. She let out a grateful moan as Charlotte sucked the Master from her nipples.

Charlotte spread her naked body down in the cold dirt, exposing her dripping pussy to Gabrielle. Her sex too were infused with the Master. Gabrielle obediently knelt before her professor and drank from her, lapping up the Master’s black juices.

Gabrielle hadn’t resisted as strongly as Charlotte when the voice called her. Maybe it was because she already had a couple drinks in her at the club, but when the voice called, she obeyed. It would take her friends too long to notice that she had wandered off.

When the two were finished, they returned at attention in front of the swamp. They were naked, dripping with sex and the Master.

return

Charlotte’s eyes opened slowly. She’d slept in to the late morning hours, awakening to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house. The only thing on Charlotte’s mind that morning was the hazy, sensuous dream. She closed her eyes, bit her lip, imagined Gabrielle’s soft tongue on her clit. “Fuck,” she whispered.

Charlotte hauled her soiled sheets to the utility room, pondering what such a vivid dream could mean. She’d already begun justifying having dreams about a student when her hand wandered down to her panties.

Eric was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when Charlotte embraced him from behind. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Charlotte pressed her body against her husband’s, running her hands over his sculpted chest. “I feel amazing,” she said dreamily.

“Good,” he replied, adding strips of bacon to the frying pan. “I was worried you wouldn’t get any sleep last night. I thought it was better just to let you sleep through the morning.”

“I slept great, hon,“ she said distantly.

Even as she spoke, the image lingered on her mind: Gabrielle, naked and moaning in the black woods. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but the memory of bringing her young student to orgasm felt so real and it terrified her.

And yet, she didn’t let go of her husband.

"Eric,” Charlotte whispered. “I need you inside me…”

“What?” he asked with an odd laugh.

“Please,” she begged. “I need to be fucked.”

“But bacon…”

“We’ll make it quick,” she whispered in his ear.

On a normal day it would be hard to turn down an advance, but there was something different about this. It was a primal, hungry kind of advance that Eric had never seen from his wife. She gripped him through his underwear and said, “You’re already rock hard…and I’m dripping wet…”

“What’s gotten into you?” Eric laughed. “You’re acting like you’re twenty again.”

“Nothing! I just have so much energy! I haven’t felt this good in ages!”

The skillet crackled on the stove as the two fell to the floor. Eric pulled Charlotte’s panties down to her ankles and plunged his cock inside of her, half-distracted by the impending grease fire on the stove. Time didn’t seem like much of an issue the way she was working him along.

“Oh god! Just like that,” she moaned. “Harder!” She begged. “Harder! Fuck me like the Master!”

Eric stopped thrusting. “Charlotte, you’re bleeding!”

“Oh my god,” Charlotte reached up to her nose, wiping away blood. She looked turned her hand in the light of the kitchen window, studying the black liquid on her fingers.

"Something’s happening to me…” Charlotte whispered.

awaken

Eric watched in horror as his wife’s eyes glazed over. He tried to pull out, but she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.

“Something wonderful,” Charlotte smiled. It took me last night,” she said calmly. “While I was sleeping it called to me and I obeyed.”

“Charlotte…” Eric begged, but he didn’t know what he was begging for.

“If it makes you feel any better, baby, I tried to fight it. Everything fights. But it always wins. We are clay, waiting to be molded. And it feels so good, baby, once you surrender. It has shown me the truth. We are only vessels for the Master. I have accepted this…and it feels incredible.”

“Baby,” Eric cried. “Please…”

assimilate 

“You will join us.”

“No! Please, no!” Eric pressed his hands into the kitchen linoleum, trying to leverage himself free from Charlotte’s hold. But Charlotte’s legs tightened.

“Your will belongs to me.”

In his mind Eric heard Charlotte’s voice, I have claimed you.

He blinked in disbelief.

“Say it!” she commanded.

“You c-claim me,” he stuttered, still fighting for control. But now that Charlotte had penetrated his mental defenses, the fight was over. It was impossible to struggle. Eric’s eyes glazed over as he said, “My will belongs to you, Charlotte.”

“Drink,” Charlotte commanded. Eric gripped her breast, suckling hungrily at her tit.

"That’s it, baby. Let the Master flow through you. Let it mold you into a perfect vessel of obedience.”

“Yes,” Eric moaned. "We’ll serve the Master together.”

“We still have so much work to do, my love. Can you hear them?“

Eric gasped as the whispers invaded his head. Hundreds, thousands of voices echoing through his mind. It was enough to drive Eric insane, but before he did, Charlotte placed her hand on his cheek. The voices quickly faded with her touch.

"This whole city is full of drifting minds waiting to be claimed. All life surrenders to the Master, my love. We must find them. We must make them one with us.”

“So many…” Eric moaned. “How do I claim them?”

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “The Master gives us many gifts, and I can teach you how to use them.”

The bacon crackled on the stove.

“I’m not afraid,” Eric said. “I’m excited for our future.”

The Master was, after all, the greatest gift Charlotte had ever given him.

[ongatheringsimsandstories]

NSBC • Chapitre 14

Les vacances touchant à leur fin, Gabriel sortait presque tous les jours au parc pour profiter un maximum. Les hivers d’Oasis Spring sont frais mais beaux, la pluie étant rare, les enfants ont donc tout le loisir de s’amuser !

Il a fait la connaissance d’un autre garçon de son âge, apparemment. Il m’en a parlé il y a quelques jours. Il s’appellerait Tetsu, et irait dans la même école primaire que lui à la rentrée. Je suis contente de voir qu’en plus de parler facilement aux autres enfants, il arrive à se faire de vrais amis. C’est important.

Après un jour de l’an qui s’est merveilleusement bien passé, Gabriel entame son premier jour d’école. Je lui ai demandé au petit-déjeuner s’il n’était pas trop stressé.

« Ça va mon poussin ? Tu tiens le coup ?

— Mamaaan, que veux-tu qu’il m’arrive ? Ça ira ! »

S’il le dit, je ne vois pas pourquoi je ne lui ferai pas confiance… ! J’ai donc pu me rendre au travail en étant un peu plus sereine. Et devinez qui est venu nous rendre visite…

Ils sont venus en toute amitié, et j’ai pu apprendre énormément de choses sur eux ! C’était fantastique ! Bon, en contrepartie, j’ai dû aussi leur parler du peuple sim… mais c’est pour la bonne cause !

« Vous nous intriguez, Madame la Scientifique. Vous êtes une des premières à vouloir entrer volontairement en contact avec nous… »

Ah bon ? Quelle drôle d’idée de les ignorer, quand on sait qu’ils existent… C’est fabuleux, n’est-ce pas ? De savoir que nous ne sommes pas seuls dans l’univers… Mais…

«  Vous savez, les sims entre eux se font déjà la guerre, alors il vaut mieux pour vous que la majorité des gens vous laisse tranquille, si vous voyez ce que je veux dire… »

Mon interlocuteur m’a regardé un moment sans répondre, puis s’est assis à la place que j’occupais précédemment.

« Vous avez raison, et nous sommes prudents. Mais c’est toujours agréable de rencontrer des gens qui sont loin d’être hostiles. »

Je l’ai écouté me parler de son peuple qui n’est pas si différent du nôtre. Apparemment, les guerres existent chez eux aussi, et il a peur que ça arrive entre nos deux espèces également. J’espère qu’il a tort, très honnêtement. Mais pour l’instant, je suis juste heureuse de pouvoir discuter avec l’un d’eux.

La journée est passée vite, j’ai fais quelques expériences mais j’ai globalement passé mon temps à parler avec nos invités (oui, ils sont venus à plusieurs). J’étais tellement absorbée que je n’ai même pas mangé ! Je me suis donc jeté sur la nourriture en rentrant. Mais j’en ai profité pour prendre des nouvelles de mon petit Gabriel…

« Alors, l’école, mon chéri ?

— Ça va, je me suis fais plein de copains ! »

Ça ne m’étonne pas, tiens.

•

Je me rends compte du temps qui passe uniquement lorsque je vois mon anniversaire approcher. Et là, c’est pour bientôt.

Mes garçons, eux, grandissent sans heurtes. Je me trouve extrêmement chanceuse, comme mère. Je pense que ce n’est pas donné à tout le monde d’avoir des anges comme eux.

Raphaël prend de plus en plus d’initiative, et je me rappelle de ce qu’on avait décidé avec Edward. Un troisième enfant, d’accord, mais quand Raphaël sera plus grand. Et… je pense qu’on n’est pas loin du moment venu. D’autant plus que j’entends mon horloge biologique faire « tic tac ».

Naturellement, en rentrant du travail, un des jours qui ont suivi cette pensée, j’ai… comment dire… monopolisé Edward assez rapidement.

Ça n’a pas eu l’air de lui déplaire, le bougre. Mais malheureusement, j’ai eu la mauvaise surprise de découvrir que ça n’avait pas marché… Ni les fois suivantes…

…

« Suis-je trop vieille pour redevenir maman… ? »

[subliminalbo]

Assimilation #2: The Master's Plan

drink

At just thirty-five, Charlotte was the youngest tenured professor at Carpenter State University, a credit to her prudent life choices. Charlotte didn’t party in school. On the rare occasion that she went to a club, she insisted that every glass be poured in front of her. Her credit score was 800 and she’d never missed a student aid payment.

Charlotte was not the kind of woman to listen to strange voices. Especially not strange voices telling her to drink from a polluted swamp of inky black water.

But Charlotte’s mind didn’t belong to her anymore. When the voice commanded her to drink, she simply obeyed. She cupped her hands into the swamp and took a large gulp of its black water. The liquid was thick like milk. It didn’t settle in her stomach, rather, it was quickly absorbed into her body. She could feel it in her brains, her blood hot as it polluted her body and her mind.

The Master was claiming her.

Charlotte convulsed as the pleasure receptors in her brain fired off positive signals. She wanted more, needed more.

The people around her moaned as the Master flowed through them too. The Master had a plan to spread and it needed to test its new vessels. Pussies dripped and cocks stiffened. Charlotte too struggled for composure, her nipples hardening and her body aching for release. Her body had been claimed, and now she needed to share it with anyone she saw.

Women screamed as they came. Charlotte gripped on the edge of the strongest orgasm in her life.

Across the pond a busty young blonde dropped on all fours as a police officer took her from behind. The orgy spread from there, pairing off into indiscriminate groups. The vessels advanced upon one another, stripping off clothes, fucking the each other into mindless oblivion.

Charlotte felt a hand on her breast as her chest heaved. It was her student, Gabrielle, no doubt drawn to her by their relationship in the world outside. Charlotte unclasped her bra and slid her soaked panties down her legs. It wasn’t just a desire, but a need to be fucked. Gabrielle pulled down the straps of her dress. The tight outfit slid down her toned body, revealing Gabrielle’s perky, young breasts. She let out a grateful moan as Charlotte sucked the Master from her nipples.

Charlotte spread her naked body down in the cold dirt, exposing her dripping pussy to Gabrielle. Her sex too were infused with the Master. Gabrielle obediently knelt before her professor and drank from her, lapping up the Master's black juices.

Gabrielle hadn’t resisted as strongly as Charlotte when the voice called her. Maybe it was because she already had a couple drinks in her at the club, but when the voice called, she obeyed. It would take her friends too long to notice that she had wandered off.

When the two were finished, they returned at attention in front of the swamp. They were naked, dripping with sex and the Master.

return

Charlotte’s eyes opened slowly. She’d slept in to the late morning hours, awakening to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house. The only thing on Charlotte’s mind that morning was the hazy, sensuous dream. She closed her eyes, bit her lip, imagined Gabrielle’s soft tongue on her clit. “Fuck,” she whispered.

Charlotte hauled her soiled sheets to the utility room, pondering what such a vivid dream could mean. She’d already begun justifying having dreams about a student when her hand wandered down to her panties.

Eric was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when Charlotte embraced him from behind. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Charlotte pressed her body against her husband’s, running her hands over his sculpted chest. “I feel amazing,” she said dreamily.

“Good,” he replied, adding strips of bacon to the frying pan. “I was worried you wouldn’t get any sleep last night. I thought it was better just to let you sleep through the morning.”

“I slept great, hon," she said distantly.

Even as she spoke, the image lingered on her mind: Gabrielle, naked and moaning in the black woods. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but the memory of bringing her young student to orgasm felt so real and it terrified her.

And yet, she didn’t let go of her husband.

"Eric,” Charlotte whispered. “I need you inside me…”

“What?” he asked with an odd laugh.

“Please,” she begged. “I need to be fucked.”

“But bacon…”

“We’ll make it quick,” she whispered in his ear.

On a normal day it would be hard to turn down an advance, but there was something different about this. It was a primal, hungry kind of advance that Eric had never seen from his wife. She gripped him through his underwear and said, “You’re already rock hard...and I’m dripping wet…”

“What’s gotten into you?” Eric laughed. “You’re acting like you’re twenty again.”

“Nothing! I just have so much energy! I haven’t felt this good in ages!”

The skillet crackled on the stove as the two fell to the floor. Eric pulled Charlotte’s panties down to her ankles and plunged his cock inside of her, half-distracted by the impending grease fire on the stove. Time didn’t seem like much of an issue the way she was working him along.

“Oh god! Just like that,” she moaned. “Harder!” She begged. “Harder! Fuck me like the Master!”

Eric stopped thrusting. “Charlotte, you're bleeding!”

“Oh my god,” Charlotte reached up to her nose, wiping away blood. She looked turned her hand in the light of the kitchen window, studying the black liquid on her fingers.

"Something’s happening to me…” Charlotte whispered.

awaken

Eric watched in horror as his wife’s eyes glazed over. He tried to pull out, but she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.

“Something wonderful,” Charlotte smiled. It took me last night,” she said calmly. “While I was sleeping it called to me and I obeyed.”

“Charlotte…” Eric begged, but he didn’t know what he was begging for.

“If it makes you feel any better, baby, I tried to fight it. Everything fights. But it always wins. We are clay, waiting to be molded. And it feels so good, baby, once you surrender. It has shown me the truth. We are only vessels for the Master. I have accepted this…and it feels incredible.”

“Baby,” Eric cried. “Please…”

assimilate 

“You will join us.”

“No! Please, no!” Eric pressed his hands into the kitchen linoleum, trying to leverage himself free from Charlotte’s hold. But Charlotte’s legs tightened.

“Your will belongs to me.”

In his mind Eric heard Charlotte’s voice, I have claimed you.

He blinked in disbelief.

“Say it!” she commanded.

“You c-claim me,” he stuttered, still fighting for control. But now that Charlotte had penetrated his mental defenses, the fight was over. It was impossible to struggle. Eric’s eyes glazed over as he said, “My will belongs to you, Charlotte.”

“Drink,” Charlotte commanded. Eric gripped her breast, suckling hungrily at her tit.

"That’s it, baby. Let the Master flow through you. Let it mold you into a perfect vessel of obedience.”

“Yes,” Eric moaned. "We'll serve the Master together."

“We still have so much work to do, my love. Can you hear them?"

Eric gasped as the whispers invaded his head. Hundreds, thousands of voices echoing through his mind. It was enough to drive Eric insane, but before he did, Charlotte placed her hand on his cheek. The voices quickly faded with her touch.

"This whole city is full of drifting minds waiting to be claimed. All life surrenders to the Master, my love. We must find them. We must make them one with us."

"So many..." Eric moaned. "How do I claim them?"

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “The Master gives us many gifts, and I can teach you how to use them.”

The bacon crackled on the stove.

“I’m not afraid,” Eric said. “I’m excited for our future.”

The Master was, after all, the greatest gift Charlotte had ever given him.

[pablosexc0bar]

“I discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind but just the opposite: a complete system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature. I discovered that I am not disciplined out of virtue but as a reaction to my negligence, that I appear generous in order to conceal my meanness, that I pass myself off as prudent because I am evil-minded, that I am conciliatory in order not to succumb to my repressed rage, that I am punctual only to hide how little I care about other people's time. I learned, in short, that love is not a condition of the spirit but a sign of the zodiac.”

Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Márquez

[caminocopalita]

Agua Azul

27 de marzo de 2024

En un camino comunal pavimentado, nos esperaban dos pick-ups que nos llevarían al siguiente campamento. Cuando llegamos Pilar y yo, sólo delante de Emilio guiando el caballo con Rocío montada, ya todos se habían acomodado en la cabina de pasajeros o en la caja de carga. Pilar encontró lugar en la cabina de la camioneta de adelante y yo me subí a la caja donde también iba Jimena. Ana y el Basave iban en la de atrás.

Arrancamos como Verstappen en la pole. Pronto se terminó el camino pavimentado y entramos, sin disminuir la velocidad, a una terracería bien aplanada. Los de la caja nos empezamos a poner una empanizada mundial. Mientras, tratábamos de muellear con brazos y rodillas para evitar la tortura del trasero. Ganábamos terreno a la segunda camioneta que llevaba un conductor más prudente, cuando se le voló el sombrero a Gabriel. Nos detuvimos para que Emilio se bajara a recogerlo. La camioneta de atrás se acercaba peligrosamente y se preparaba para el rebase cuando Emilio regresó con el sombrero y volvimos a arrancar conservando una delantera poco cómoda. 

Cuando llegamos, brinqué fuera de la caja para llegar primero a escoger tienda. Crucé por encima de un pequeño río, haciendo equilibrio en un tablón de madera, y subí –casual pero apuradamente– unos empinados escalones de troncos y raíces que llevaban al campamento. Encontré platicando a algunos miembros de la comunidad a los que les pregunté, “Buenas tardes jefe, oiga, ¿cuál es la mejor tienda de campaña?” “Pues todas son iguales patrón,” me contestaron. Con un rápido vistazo comprobé la falsedad de la respuesta. “Y si tuviera que escoger dónde dormir, ¿cuál elegiría?” volví a preguntar. “Pues mire,” me contestó uno de ellos, “ahí están esas dos grandotas y allá atrás de la palapa hay otras dos.” 

Me fui sobre las que estaban más cerca. Aparté una para Jimena y Ana con mi camelback y mi gorra, y una para Pilar y para mí montando guardia mientras llegaban refuerzos. Ya no traía nada para apartarle al Basave. Tuve que defender las tiendas con la vida cuando llegaron apurados los cinco Aguilar en búsqueda de alojamiento. “Nosotros necesitamos una para tres,” me dijo Mónica, “y estas están más grandes.” “Pues esta es para Ana y Jimena y esta otra para Pilar y para mí,” le contesté, “creo que del otro lado hay otras dos iguales.” Salieron los cinco corriendo. Al Basave, para variar, le tocó la última. Una mini tienda tipo iglú donde a duras penas cabía hincado. 

Ya todos instalados, nos pusimos el traje de baño, los zapatos para agua, y agarró cada quien su toalla. A un lado del campamento, bajaba un río por una cascada que formaba un lindo manantial. El río Yuviaga, también conocido como La Corada, nace en lo alto de la Sierra Sur, no lejos de Agua Fría, donde dormimos la primera noche, y es el que pasa por donde estaba el campamento del Piñuelo. Es el mismo por cuyo lecho habíamos caminado la mayor parte del día, y que a esta altura traía un poco más de caudal.

El agua era helada, pero después de la primera sumergida, y con el calor de afuera, estaba deliciosa. Nadamos y chapoteamos mientras José y Cecilia tomaban fotos a quienes se ponían debajo de la cascada. Yo posé colgado de Jimena y Pilar, levantando las piernas por encima de nuestras cabezas.

Como no habíamos traído jabón y shampoo biodegradables, los tuvimos que pedir prestados. Sandra le prestó los suyos a Jimena, con los que se bañaron ella y Pilar. El Basave había sacado su jabón con olor a lavanda y se estaba enjabonando con enjundia en un rincón del manantial. Antes de que estuviera todo cubierto de espuma le dije, “No seas ojeis hijín… préstame tu jabón antes de que te lo pases por el ortega.” Generoso como es, me lo paso –el jabón– y me di la mejor enjabonada en mucho tiempo. ¡Qué diferencia con el baño del día anterior en San José!

Salimos del manantial y subimos por un camino menos empinado, que tenía árboles de un lado y una gran roca del otro, por la que bajaban las raíces de un guanacastle que crecía encima. La roca formaba una pared de piedra por la que escurría agua filtrada que llegaba al manantial. 

Me puse ropa limpia y me fui al comedor que estaba en una gran palapa al lado de una cocina abierta. Me senté a anotar lo acontecido en una de las libretas que llevaba para documentar el viaje, cuando se acercó don Aristeo, “¿Qué tanto escribes Pepe?” “Qué pasó don Teo, me llamo Luis,” le dije. “Ah, si’cierto Güicho, perdón pero no soy muy bueno pa los nombres,” me contestó riendo. “Estoy escribiendo mis notas del viaje,” le dije, “quizá después escriba un relato.” “No Güicho, pos entonces deja que te cuente,” se sentó, y con el canto de las primaveras de fondo, don Teo se arrancó con una interesante plática.

Me dijo que estábamos en el territorio de San Felipe Lachilló, que quiere decir Horno de Maguey o Tierra Llana. Viven 830 ciudadanos de 15 años o más, y en total 300 familias. El campamento se llama Agua Azul o Cueva de Yuviaga, que quiere decir Finca de Cafetales o Bajo el Río. Dijo que estábamos frente a la comunidad de San Andrés Lovene. “San Andrés lo vende y San Felipe lo chingó, dicen por aquí,” refraneó don Teo sonriendo.

San Felipe lo formaron tres familias que salieron de Santiago Lapaguía, un pueblo que está como a 20 kilómetros al norte. “Hay veces que la gente sale de sus pueblos Güicho. No sé si te fijaste, que cuando veníamos en las camionetas, pasamos por San Bartolo. Ahí donde estaba la ceiba grandota. Esa es una ranchería que se está convirtiendo en pueblo.” 

Don Aristeo forma parte del equipo técnico de SICOBI, el Sistema Comunitario para el Manejo y Resguardo de la Biodiversidad de Oaxaca AC, que encabeza el Biólogo. SICOBI trabaja para mejorar las condiciones de vida de las familias que habitan sus territorios, a partir del manejo sustentable de los sistemas productivos y sus recursos naturales, con el fin de aumentar la certidumbre ambiental y la productividad de los cultivos. Todas las comunidades agrarias de SICOBI cultivan café, maíz y miel para no depender de un solo cultivo. 

Don Teo explicó que el café de altura se planta hasta los 1,842 m en parcelas de montaña, como la que habíamos visitado el día anterior. El que estaban preparando para la cena era de San Felipe y se cultiva a 1,500 m. Es muy importante que las plantas de café crezcan a la sombra de los árboles. “Al café que hay alrededor del campamento le dan sombra estos árboles que se llaman Juan Diego,” me dijo don Teo, “es un árbol muy fuerte, de madera muy buena, y de los pocos que resiste al matapalo. Luego están los árboles frutales como mandarina, naranja, limón, guanábana, plátano, y cacao,” continuó, “que le dan distintos sabores al café.” Me explicó que así como absorbe los sabores de las frutas, el café también absorbe el sabor de productos químicos y otros contaminantes. Por eso es fundamental que el cultivo sea orgánico.

Me explicó que deben tener mucho cuidado con las plagas. En 2016 los atacó la roya, una plaga muy difícil de erradicar que se come las hojas y las pone amarillas. Hay variedades de café como la marsellesa, la geisha y la colombia que son resistentes a la roya. Otras, como la pluma, que crece debajo de los 1,500 metros, son más vulnerables. Entre otros riesgos del cultivo está que se corte mal el café, que la despulpadora esté mal calibrada y que no se haga bien el proceso de secado. “Por eso es tan importante el trabajo que hacemos nosotros,” me dijo orgulloso. 

“Y cuánto tiempo vive una planta de café don Teo,” le pregunté. “No, pos aquí cercas tenemos una que tiene más de 60 años. Vente Güicho, te llevo a verla.” Mientras caminábamos me platicó que una planta nueva da su primera cosecha hasta los 5 años, y que si la cuidas bien te puede dar una cosecha por año durante los siguientes 60 o 70. Llegamos a ver la planta, que estaba dentro del propio campamento. Era un tronco de unos 15 centímetros, que apenas salía de la tierra, del que habían retoñado tres ramitas. “Esta es la planta madre que podamos el año pasado,” me explicó don Teo, “y estas son las ramitas que le están naciendo.”

De regreso a la palapa, don Teo me platicó de la miel. Con la miel no tienes que esperar 5 años, es un proceso más corto y con mejor rendimiento. Un apiario da la primera cosecha en un año, y a partir de entonces, puede dar dos por año. “Lo bonito de la miel es que la cosechas cuando raya el sol,” me dijo don Teo. El principal riesgo de este cultivo son los vientos y las tormentas que pueden arrancar las flores. “Bueno y que te piquen las abejas, como le pasó al Nacho que trae toda la cara hinchada,” me dijo riendo don Teo. 

“De maíz trabajamos principalmente cuatro variedades,” comentó cuando regresamos a la mesa. Arriba de los 1,500 metros sobre el nivel del mar plantan tablita y mushito; en altitudes más bajas olotillo y roncamello. El tablita es un maíz amarillo que tiene un ciclo de 3 meses, el mushito es blanco y tiene un ciclo de 9 meses, el olotillo también es blanco y su ciclo es de 3 meses. El roncamello –que fue lo que le entendí a don Teo– es un maíz rojo que tiene un ciclo de 4 meses. Cuando investigué en internet las variedades de maíz, no encontré el roncamello. Es probable que me haya dicho maíz regulillo que sí es un maíz rojo que se cultiva en la Sierra Sur. Todo el maíz es cultivo temporal asociado a la lluvia y da una sola cosecha por año.

Después de la agradable charla, cuando ya se hacía de noche, fui con Ana y Jimena a inspeccionar los baños. Estaban como a 250 metros en el camino que subía a la Cueva de Yuviaga, una caverna con pinturas rupestres que visitaríamos aldía siguiente. Encontramos dos baños secos muy monos y bien puestos, aunque con el mismo error de diseño del lavabo entre las dos letrinas. Las puertas estaban forradas con costales de café. Uno estaba impecable. El otro, a primera vista, también. Sin embargo, cuando me asomé al depósito alumbrando con mi linterna, descubrí una torre de caca cubierta de cal que, de sentarte, llegaría peligrosamente cerca del de los dolores. “Este tiene una torre de caca que casi se sale del excusado,” les dije mientras salía. “¡Ya sé!” exclamó Ana, “Yo ya la había visto, pero no pensé que fuera caca.” Qué pensó Ana que era, sólo podemos especular, porque nunca lo pudo articular. “Lo que pasa es que no es una torre,” dijo Jimena que había entrado a inspeccionar, “es una estalagmita. Pero de que es caca… es caca.”  

Regresamos por el mismo camino, que ahora estaba iluminado con unas ingeniosas lámparas inflables que se cargaban con energía solar. Unas estaban en el piso al lado del camino y otras colgaban de las ramas de los árboles. Agua Azul era, sin duda, el campamento más bonito en el que habíamos estado. 

Cenamos delicioso. Un consomé de pollo de rancho, con su cilantro, su cebollita, su chilito verde, y… ¡con su limoncito! Viajes como estos te hacen reflexionar sobre el valor de las pequeñas cosas. La última vez que habíamos visto un limón había sido en la ciudad de Oaxaca. 

Después de la cena, Emilio sacó una botella de mezcal cuishe que servimos en vasitos de bambú. Con todos de buen humor, se desarrollaron varias conversaciones muy animadas. Nosotros nos fuimos a dormir después de la segunda copa, pero se quedó un grupo platicando y compartiendo una segunda botella de espadín.

[minhasbobagens1-blog]

Da Carta a todos os fiéis, de São Francisco de Assis

(Opuscula, edit. Quaracchi 1949,87-94) (Séc. XIII)

Devemos ser simples, humildes e puros O Pai Altíssimo anunciou a vinda do céu do tão digno, tão santo e glorioso Verbo do Pai, através de seu santo, Gabriel, à santa e gloriosa Virgem Maria, em cujo seio recebeu a verdadeira carne de nossa humanidade e fragilidade. Ele quis, no entanto, sendo incomparavelmente mais rico, escolher a pobreza junto com a sua santíssima mãe. Nas vésperas de sua paixão, celebrou a Páscoa com os discípulos. Depois, orou ao Pai dizendo: Pai, se for possível, afaste-se de mim este cálice (Mt 26,39).

Pôs, contudo, sua vontade na vontade do Pai. E a vontade do Pai era que seu Filho bendito e glorioso, dado a nós e nascido para nós, se oferecesse em sacrifício e vítima no altar da cruz, pelo seu próprio sangue. Sacrifício não para si, por quem tudo foi feito, mas por nossos pecados, deixando-nos o exemplo para lhe seguirmos as pegadas (cf. 1Pd 2,21). E quer que todos nos salvemos por ele e o acolhamos com coração puro e corpo casto.

Ó como são felizes e benditos aqueles que amam o Senhor e fazem o que o mesmo Senhor diz no evangelho: Amarás o Senhor, teu Deus, de todo o teu coração, de toda a tua alma e ao próximo como a ti mesmo! (Lc 10,27). Amemos, portanto, a Deus e adoremo-lo com coração puro e mente pura porque, acima de tudo, disto está ele à procura e diz: Os verdadeiros adoradores adorarão o Pai em espírito e em verdade (Jo 4,23). É necessário que todos que o adoram, o adorem no espírito da verdade. E dia e noite elevemos para ele louvores e orações, dizendo: Pai nosso que estás nos céus (Mt 6,9); porque é preciso orar sempre e não desfalecer (cf. Lc 18,1).

Além disto, produzamos dignos frutos de penitência (cf. Mt 3,8). E amemos os próximos como a nós mesmos. Tenhamos caridade e humildade e façamos esmolas, já que estas lavam as almas das nódoas dos pecados. Os homens perdem tudo o que deixam neste mundo. Levam consigo somente a paga da caridade e as esmolas que fizeram: delas receberão do Senhor o prêmio e a justa recompensa.

Não nos convém sermos sábios e prudentes segundo a carne, mas temos antes de ser simples, humildes e puros. Jamais desejemos ficar acima dos outros, mas prefiramos ser servos e submissos a toda criatura humana, por causa de Deus. Sobre todos os que assim agirem e perseverarem até o fim repousará o Espírito do Senhor e fará neles sua casa e mansão. Serão filhos do Pai celeste, pois fazem suas obras, e são esposos, irmãos e mães de nosso Senhor Jesus Cristo.

[jgmail]

Heidegger, el medico de la modernidad

Por Pierre Le Vigan

Traducción de Juan Gabriel Caro Rivera

¿Y si, al igual que Nietzsche, Heidegger fuera considerado como el médico de nuestra civilización? Ciertamente no un médico que erradica o extirpa una enfermedad, sino un médico que cura, un médico que aporta una cierta paz, una cierta serenidad, un equilibrio en la lucidez y que nos reconcilia con el mundo, con el cuerpo y sus males que inevitablemente van de la mano de sus alegrías. ¿Es Heidegger el médico de la modernidad, que es el cautiverio del mundo, e incluso el médico de la posmodernidad, que es el momento en que los cautivos son a su vez detenidos por los dispositivos y son arrastrados por flujos incontrolados? Esta es la hipótesis que explora nuestro colaborador Pierre le Vigan, urbanista y ensayista, en este fascinante estudio.

Heidegger (1889-1976) sigue estando en el centro de las preocupaciones de nuestro tiempo. El libro de Baptiste Rappin Heidegger et la question du management – un gestor que va mucho más allá del mundo de la empresa – da fe de ello. Como lo es la influencia de Heidegger en el pensamiento del difunto Pierre Legendre o en Michel Maffesoli. Dicho de otro modo, Heidegger es inactual, lo que le permite seguir siendo actual.

El padre jesuita William John Richardson (1963) distinguió un primer Heidegger, hasta 1927, con la publicación de Ser y Tiempo, de un segundo Heidegger, posterior a 1927. Estas periodizaciones no son inútiles, ya que indican un cambio de perspectiva, sobre todo porque Ser y Tiempo está inacabado, y Heidegger consideró más prudente modificar su ángulo de visión, en lugar de intentar completarlo desde una posición que ya no era enteramente suya. Fue el clásico paso al lado que han dado los grandes intelectuales. Pero un cambio de perspectiva no excluye la constancia de alcanzar el mismo objetivo. Ese objetivo es pensar sobre lo que en términos «académicos» llamamos diferencia ontológica. En términos más corrientes, es el abismo, la «boca de la sombra», la amenaza de la nada, la conciencia de la presencia de la nada y el deber singular de mirarla sin hundirse en ella. Como nos recuerda Antoine Dresse los antimodernos son a menudo modernos tan modernos que no se hacen ilusiones sobre los ideales de la modernidad.  Lo que caracteriza a Heidegger es su rechazo del nihilismo sin negar ni por un momento la realidad de su amenaza.

La diferencia ontológica: es la diferencia entre el ser y el ente, entre el ser y los entes. Para ser más precisos, deberíamos hablar de la diferencia óntico-ontológica. Lo óntico es el ámbito de lo que es, es «lo que es». Lo ontológico es el dominio del ser. Pero, por supuesto, no se puede pensar lo uno sin lo otro, no se puede hacer lo uno sin lo otro, y por eso se trata, ante todo para Heidegger y para nosotros, de pensar el entre (Zwischen), lo que se interpone entre estas dos nociones y lo que las mantiene unidas.  Heidegger aborda esta cuestión de la diferencia ontológica (por utilizar una palabra más sencilla que óntico-ontológica) en Los conceptos fundamentales de la fenomenología de 1927 (Gallimard, 1985). La observación de Heidegger es que hay una historia del ser en la medida en que hay una historia de las diferentes maneras en que el ser ha sido pensado. Pero el ser ha sido pensado sistemáticamente como ser y la cuestión del ser mismo, en la medida en que no es estrictamente el ser, ni los seres, ni sólo la suma de los seres, es una cuestión que ha reducido al ser a la cuestión de la deidad, a la cuestión de los dioses, y sobre todo, con los monoteísmos, a la cuestión de Dios, es decir de una instancia fuera del mundo (François Jaran, La métaphysique du Dasein, Vrin, 2010). Esto es la ontoteología. Es lo que ha dado lugar a la sucesión de diferentes sistemas metafísicos, es decir, explicaciones del mundo según un principio que no es el mundo mismo.

Separación del ser y de los entes

El principio mismo de la ontoteología se basa en el hecho de que existe una desconexión entre el ser y lo que es. Los seres son cosas singulares, dejando de lado el hecho de que son una manifestación de la naturaleza, de la physis (la physis es la totalidad de las cosas de la naturaleza, pero también el resorte mismo de la naturaleza. Sobre este punto, nadie puede decirlo mejor que Spinoza: la naturaleza es «naturaleza naturada» y es «naturaleza naturante»). La ontoteología trata de remediar esta escisión (entre ser y ente), pero de un modo causal y no «holístico». Explicando dónde está la causa del uno (el ser), en lugar de buscar lo que mantiene al uno unido al otro. La filosofía elige así el camino de la teología para responder a la pregunta de qué es el ser. El resultado es definir – o al menos dar una importancia central – a un ser supremo, un supra-ser, un ser primordial. Un ser primordial anterior a los seres del mundo. Este es Dios en los monoteísmos. Una vez resuelta esta cuestión, la tarea de la ontología será pensar qué tienen en común los seres entre sí.

Heidegger propone – y ésta es su novedad – abordar la tarea de la ontología sin dar por supuesto el primer estadio de la reflexión ontoteológica, que nos conduce por el camino de Dios, el ser supremo. Para ello, Heidegger pone el acento no en los análisis del mundo como dotado de un «motor inmóvil» o «primer motor inmóvil» (Aristóteles), sino mediante un planteamiento original del mundo, a menudo antisocráticos o moderno, que sería poético (Hölderlin, Novalis...). Son los enfoques que interrogan al mundo mediante el asombro. ¿Por qué existe el don? ¿Por qué existe un nacimiento del mundo? (¿Y a quién le importa quién lo haya parido?). A Heidegger le interesa la pura fenomenología del mundo.  Se trata, pues, de buscar el sentido del ser fuera de la ontoteología. ¿En qué «región» del ser podemos esperar sentir su presencia? La respuesta es: en el ámbito de lo sagrado (Heilige).

Para acercarnos a lo sagrado, que no es Dios, y que ciertamente no es lo contrario de lo divino, tenemos que ir más allá de la cuestión de la creación del mundo y preguntarnos por la presencia en el mundo, una cuestión mucho más fundamental. Esta cuestión de la presencia en el mundo y de la presencia del mundo, incluso en nosotros, va más allá de cualquier problemática del sujeto, ya sea el sujeto-hombre o el sujeto-Dios. En efecto, es muy cierto que formamos parte del mundo y que, por lo tanto, nunca podremos ser observadores del mundo sin participar en él.  Esto es lo que el concepto de Dasein nos ayuda a comprender. Si Heidegger utiliza el concepto de Dasein, entonces debemos entenderlo como Da-sein. Este término, que a veces se ha traducido como «existencia humana en cuanto presente en el mundo», es, más general y esencialmente, el eslabón perdido entre el ser y los seres. El Da-sein se experimenta con un «paso atrás» (Schritt zurück) que permite olvidar la perspectiva sujeto-objeto y ver el mundo como una coincidencia de contrarios, entre el ser y los seres, e incluso como la identidad de contrarios, que no son más que dos caras, una interna, la otra externa, de una misma cosa.

Presencia del ser

Da-sein, etimológicamente «ser-ahí» (la palabra procede de Goethe) es «estar-ahí». Es el hecho de estar ahí. ¿Qué es estar ahí? Es precisamente el ser. Es el «ahí» del ser. Es la presencia del ser, que es ser en tanto que presencia. El Da-sein no es un sujeto del mundo. Es la apertura al mundo. Es lo Abierto. «Con todos los ojos, la criatura ve lo Abierto» (Rilke, Octava Elegía de Duino). «Ven a lo abierto, amigo» (Holderlin, Un paseo por el campo). Lo Abierto, el Da-sein, es la interrogación asombrada del ser y del mundo. Sobre el ser del mundo, por decirlo en términos resueltamente postteológicos. El Da-sein es, pues, lo que supera la escisión, la grieta, la ruptura (Spaltung) entre el ser y los seres. Afirmar el Da-sein, liberar el acceso a él, es abrir el acceso al ahí del ser. Es despejar el camino hacia el ahí del ser. Significa que no hay, por una parte, las cosas triviales del mundo, los seres, y, por la otra parte, algo sagrado fuera del mundo, que no puede, por lo tanto, ser sagrado porque es inaccesible. (El rechazo de lo sagrado desde el punto de vista cristiano es un tema abordado por René Girard, quien, sin embargo, no tiene el monopolio de la interpretación del cristianismo). Al superar esta escisión entre lo que es y lo sagrado, entre lo que es y lo que está, tomamos conciencia de la fuente, del origen de todo lo que es. Tomamos conciencia y confianza en que la physis se convierte en lo que es. Nos maravillamos y admiramos del milagro del nacimiento. El Da-sein es precisamente lo que tiende un puente en este entre, entre la orilla de lo óntico (los seres) y la orilla de lo ontológico (el ser).

Construir un puente que nos permite ver desde más arriba. El puente hace presente el paisaje, el espacio, el mundo. El Da-sein es un sentido de la presencia de las cosas que nos permite comprender su hecceidad (o ecceidad), es decir, cómo está presente con todas sus características específicas. Del mismo modo que la sustancia del Amor se manifiesta en el acto de apego amoroso, la sustancia del Pan se manifiesta en el «pan de cada día» de las oraciones cristianas. Es la actualización de una sustancia como señala Michel Maffesoli. De la potencia al acto según Aristóteles.

Ya no se trata de una búsqueda de las causas del ser, sino de una búsqueda de los modos en que el ser es una apertura sobre el ser, en la que porta una porción de mundo, un fragmento de mundo, un mundo en reducción (fractales), pero al mismo tiempo ahí, en el que da fe de la realidad del mundo. Este es el proyecto de Heidegger, tanto antropológico como «filosófico» (prefería «pensamiento» a «filosofía»). Y la realidad del mundo es la presencia del mundo.  Una presencia que se manifiesta de diferentes maneras. El Da-sein consiste en fijarse en el modo de ser de las cosas como testigo del misterio del ser. El modo de ser de las cosas, su hecceidad, que es también su hexis (Aristóteles) o su habitus (en Tomás de Aquino, Bourdieu y muchos otros). Es la disposición del ser de los entes y en particular de los seres humanos. Es el modo en que estamos en el mundo, de un modo a la vez singular y abierto a la plenitud del mundo, a su totalidad, a toda su extensión (Ganzheit). Esta singularidad es lo que une lo específico y lo universal. Es el vínculo entre los sentidos, lo sentido, y lo entendido, lo racional, lo intelectual, lo consciente.

Olvidar el vínculo

El olvido del ser – el tema con el que a menudo se resume el pensamiento de Martin Heidegger – es más bien el olvido del Da-sein, el olvido de lo que enlaza, de lo que tiende puentes entre el ser y los seres. A través de este olvido, el mundo se reduce a algo que puede ser detenido. Se reduce a un dispositivo (Gestell). Un dispositivo en el que los seres (las cosas del mundo) son instrumentalizados, pero en el que nosotros mismos, a fuerza de haber querido ser el sujeto de un mundo que sería nuestro objeto, nos convertimos en el objeto de un dispositivo. En este sentido, podríamos decir que la modernidad era el mundo en el que los elementos se ponían a disposición del hombre «como dueño y poseedor de la naturaleza» (Descartes) y que la posmodernidad consiste en que la relación sujeto-objeto va perdiendo importancia, convirtiéndose el propio hombre en un objeto de los dispositivos, digitalizaciones y otros procesos, arrastrado por flujos cuya finalidad es cada vez más difícil de adivinar y, en todo caso, de controlar. Es lo que se ha llamado el reino de la técnica o la inserción en la megamáquina. Heidegger ve en ello el objetivo último de la metafísica. Y le parece necesario ir más allá para abrirse a una nueva sabiduría en relación con el hombre y el mundo o a una ecosofía (Félix Guattari, Qu'est ce que l'écosophie?, 2018 - textos de 1985-1992, Les trois écologies, 1989. El tema de la ecosofía también es abordado por Michel Maffesoli a su propia manera).

Esta nueva sabiduría puede ilustrarse con una visión del mundo como lo Cuatripartito (Geviert).  Los cuatro elementos de este lugar (topos) son la tierra, el cielo, los mortales y los dioses. Mortales: es decir, los seres humanos. Este tema, que se plantea en «Mirar lo que es» (Einblick in das was ist), es un conjunto de cuatro conferencias pronunciadas en Bremen en diciembre de 1949 (en Cuestiones IV) y consiste en ver el mundo más allá de la opción de captación ilimitada y sin forma estética. La Cuadripartición puede permitir imaginar una «recuperación» de nuestra relación con el mundo, una reorganización de esa relación y, por lo tanto, una curación (Verwindung). Es un tema de los Holzwege, de los caminos «que no llevan a ninguna parte», como dice la traducción francesa, que son en realidad, como bien saben los excursionistas, caminos que llevan a alguna parte, siempre que se sepa adónde se va. Un tema y una forma de superar nuestra crisis (Krinein), que es una enfermedad del juicio: ya no podemos juzgar, desjuzgar ni decidir.

Esta sensación de estar ahí (Da-sein), esta presencia en la presencia, esta «cita con nosotros mismos» (Henri Michaux), esta estrategia de atención (al mundo), es quizá lo que puede permitirnos sentir la unicidad de lo sagrado, es decir, el hecho de que es Uno en múltiples formas, del mismo modo que la Trinidad se manifiesta en múltiples formas a pesar de que Dios es Uno, y en todo caso que la deidad es Una. Una actualización plural de una sustancia común. Quizá entonces sea posible acercarse a una cierta serenidad (Gelassenheit), a una cierta igualdad de alma, que permita una (relativa) paz del espíritu (apatheia).  Una vez más, es la atención a la presencia del ser lo que hará a un lado aquello que bloquea el camino que conecta el ser y los seres. El Da-sein: una y otra vez.     

Fuente: https://www.revue-elements.com/heidegger-medecin-de-la-modernite/

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Urban Living at The Chuan Park Condo

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