#verdant avenue

[tceesgamingworld]

Discover TCee's New World: The Save File - San Sequoia

Greetings fellow Simmer's and welcome to TCee's World! Today, we embark on a journey through San Sequoia for my Family Playstyle Save File.

San Sequoia, once a humble fishing village, burgeoned into a bustling center of the fishing and canning trade under the entrepreneurial spirit of local fisherman-turned-mogul, Bayani Robles. Even as the town expanded, the Robles family's influence endured, aided by the contributions of Gilbert Gilberts. Presently, San Sequoia exudes charm with its quaint streets, serene parklands, and peaceful suburban enclaves—a quintessential setting for nurturing a family.

Our initial destination within San Sequoia is the idyllic neighborhood of Hopewell Hills. Nestled away from the urban clamor, Hopewell Hills offers ample space, catering to those who cherish tranquility amidst suburban bliss. Here, four delightful residences beckon: the grandeur of 7 Eucalyptus Lane and the coziness of 23 Eucalyptus Lane, 36 Bayani Place, and Sequoia Cottage. Each home boasts proximity to fishing spots and pocket parks, enhancing the neighborhood's allure.

Venturing onward, we arrive at Anchorpoint Wharf, once the epicenter of maritime industry, now a lively downtown district adorned with a cinema, pocket parks, and more. Two exquisite waterfront abodes, Robles Point and the maritime-themed Manzanita Terrace, grace this area. Meanwhile, Anchorpoint Library invites you to indulge in literary pursuits or engage in a strategic game of chess, complemented by healthy fare from The Health Food Hut.

Our final destination leads us to Gilbert Gardens, where verdant landscapes once owned by the visionary Gilbert Gilberts now offer an enchanting backdrop for family outings. Amidst the serene ambiance, Sims can wander along one of three picturesque lake paths or frolic in the Splash Pad play area. Parkside Place provides a cozy start for budding families, while 13 Acacia Avenue caters to larger households. The modern yet inviting Celebration Center promises a plethora of recreational activities, fostering community camaraderie. Additionally, the quaint Celebration Way Chapel stands as a testament to generations of matrimonial bliss within San Sequoia.

Thank you for embarking on this tour of San Sequoia with me. Join me next time as we traverse the dusty trails of Chestnut Ridge.

#tcee's world #sims #tceesworld #sims 4 #sims4 #youtube #tceesnewworld #showusyoursims #showusyourbuilds #san sequoia #sims 4 san sequoia #TCee's New World #TCee's Gaming World #Youtube

[islerouxsims]

Dizzy Isy Update

Hi guys,

I swear I am not dragging out the release of the next version of my Dizzy Isy Save File...it’s just I have no time for it. I really do try. I have created some new creations since my last update on here about version 6.

Here are (in order) a renovation of 13 Acacia Avenue.  This will be the house for the Browne family.

“This house has 3 adult bedrooms, a teen room and finally, a room for a cute little infant. The master suite has its own bathroom and walk-in-closet. There is sizeable terrace with a bbq and bar area for summer dining.The verdant garden is treehouse ready and equiped with activities for the little one.”

Captain Crankbait's Cabin

“A stone's throw away from the marina sits Captain Crankbait's cabin. Built from local timber & furnished with love, there’s a treasure trove of intriguing bits & bobs. It may not blend in with the new SanSequoia but Casper adores his little piece of paradise. It's tranquil, boasts its own fishing pond & twinkles at night. He knows of plans to knock it down, but it will have to be over his dead body!”

Cap'n Crankbait & Salty

“Old Captain Casper has shunned conventional life for a while now. He has deep roots in SanSequoia but he is horrified by the gentrification of the area. Luxurious rentals have replaced single family homes and his tumbledown log cabin stands out from the trendy cafés & businesses. Many want to knock his cabin down but he thinks it reflects the true unshakable San Sequoian ethic. One that is slowly being eradicated.”

Celebration Way Shops

“This charming strip is the newest hangout in SanSequoia. Pop into the flowershop to spoil that special sim in your life or enjoy a cupcake & sip of coffee from the cafe while watching the world pass by from the terrace. Or if you prefer the scent of books, find yourself in a comfortable chair in the bookshop & get lost in the written word. When these three mix, there's no way of having a bad day.”

For any of you waiting (patiently) for this update, I hope this wets your appetite.

Bon appétit et merci,

Isy x

#isleroux #dizzy isy #ts4 save #ts4 save file #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 save file #the sims 4 save file #dizzy isy save file

[yieldfruit]

Hitherto hath the LORD helped us. 1 Samuel 7:12

The word "hitherto" seems like a hand pointing in the direction of the past. Whether for twenty years or seventy, "hitherto hath the LORD helped us"! Through poverty, through wealth, through sickness, through health, at home, abroad, on the land, on the sea, in honor, in dishonor, in perplexity, in joy, in trial, in triumph, in prayer, in temptation, "hitherto hath the LORD helped us"! We delight to look down a long avenue of trees. It is delightful to gaze from end to end of the long vista, a sort of verdant temple, with its branching pillars and its arches of leaves; in the same way, look down the long aisles of your years, at the green boughs of mercy overhead,...

More trials, more joys; more toils, more strengths; more fights, more victories;...[When a believer dies] There is still more awakening in Jesus' likeness, thrones, harps, songs, psalms, white raiment, the face of Jesus, the society of saints, the glory of God, the fullness of eternity, the infinity of bliss. Oh, be of good courage, believer, and with grateful confidence raise your Ebenezer, for He who has helped you "hitherto" will help you all your journey through.

Charles Spurgeon, 1865

[frosty-the-killer-doll]

Unthinkable 10 years - tagging event host @madwomanwithawarehouse

Day 4 (May 13th). Favorite season 2 character arc / Favorite season 2 setting (QC, the Foundry, Queen Manor, Verdant, etc.)

i don't think i can choose a fav character arc i mean this season opens up so many new avenues. roy gets mirakuru'ed, sara comes out as alive and as bisexual, the vertigo druggings, the introduction of the suicide squad and the league of assassins, laurel gets alcoholic with it (and thea calls her out on that which laurel even rebukes, can you imagine being a recovered addict and having to watch your court-appointed mentor go down the same road, holy shit, that's good angst), and of course, barry allen ??? my favorite setting, though, is definitely verdant<3

#unthinkable 10 years #arrowverse #arrow s2 #arrow #arrow cw #cw arrow

[dolorousvale]

What song do you think best represents you? (I'd also love to know what the admin things best fits Dola :P)

For songs, as of late I've been rather fond of these:

Radiohead - Burn the Witch

The Notwist - One Step Inside Doesn't Mean You Understand

OK Go - Obsession

Cosmo Sheldrake - Come Along

Eliza Rickman - Pretty Little Head

Cecile Corbel - Le bal des chats

And for a bonus, a piece that never fails to resonate with me. Specifically this performance of it:

:)

{So that's the music I personally think Dola would listen to that she'd think answers the question. Me though, I'm unhinged about her and have whole playlists >.>;;

Eyebright's Eulogy: This one is a gift playlist I remade on YouTube. Got it about two years ago at this point, but I feel it still applies to Dola pretty well no matter which iteration it is. This is like THE Dola playlist to me and I didn't even make it sdhfjksdf

if the ivy dreams of the deep sea: Dola x Rafayel playlist with a Dola's perspective in mind >.>;; This one I actually consider done, now that I think about it. Meant to be listened to in order, helps a lot to know the English translation of the Korean and Japanese songs. There's a Raf version too and tbh I think this works for her LnDS iteration in general

frozen stars and a verdant night: WIP Kaeyasach playlist that I'm trying to make purely out of Genshin OST... I have a bunch of songs that make me think of them though...

Anyway I'll stop there!! Thank you for the question and giving me an avenue to go on and on about this <3}

#sender: fleur-de-leap #the post #the narrator #the mirror #{ #<-why not honestly #i spent way too long thinking about what kind of music dola actually listens to aside from classical and folk #then it struck me that she really would be a post-rock enjoyer #might be colored by the fact that i had a post-rock phase when i was deep in the pits but well the vibe matches right? #like if you saw dola with her earphones in you can imagine her listening to radiohead and the notwist #and whatever genre cosmo sheldrake is... baroque pop apparently? + theres the obvious answers like fatm and hozier and the crave wives #anyway this was fun!! thank u for sending me this <3 #i sure hope all the links are correct lol #}

[g--dgdgd123]

Exploring Al Jalil Garden: A Fusion of Nature and Modern Living

Al Jalil Garden stands as a testament to the harmonious blend of nature's beauty and contemporary urban living. Nestled amidst the serene landscape of Lahore, Pakistan, this residential community offers residents a unique experience of tranquility coupled with modern amenities. In this article, we delve into the various aspects that make Al Jalil Garden a sought-after destination for those seeking a balance between nature and urban convenience.

Natural Surroundings:

One of the most captivating features of Al Jalil Garden is its lush greenery and scenic landscapes. Spread over vast acres, the community is adorned with meticulously landscaped parks, tree-lined avenues, and verdant gardens. The abundance of green spaces not only enhances the aesthetic appeal but also promotes a healthy and sustainable lifestyle for residents. Walking trails, jogging tracks, and recreational areas provide ample opportunities for residents to connect with nature and lead an active lifestyle.

Modern Infrastructure:

Complementing its natural surroundings, Al Jalil Garden boasts modern infrastructure and state-of-the-art facilities. The residential units, ranging from cozy apartments to spacious villas, are designed to cater to diverse lifestyle preferences. Each dwelling is equipped with essential amenities and built to high-quality standards, ensuring comfort and convenience for residents. Moreover, the community features well-planned roads, efficient drainage systems, and reliable utilities, making it a model of modern urban planning.

Community Living:

Beyond its physical attributes, Al Jalil Garden fosters a strong sense of community among its residents. Various social and recreational activities are organized regularly, encouraging interaction and camaraderie among neighbors. The community center serves as a hub for gatherings, events, and cultural celebrations, further enriching the social fabric of the neighborhood. Additionally, the presence of schools, healthcare facilities, and commercial establishments within the vicinity ensures that residents have access to essential services without venturing far from home.

Commitment to Sustainability:

Al Jalil Garden is committed to promoting sustainability and environmental stewardship. Through initiatives such as waste management programs, energy-efficient infrastructure, and green building practices, the community strives to minimize its ecological footprint. Furthermore, the integration of eco-friendly features such as rainwater harvesting systems and solar panels underscores its dedication to preserving the natural environment for future generations.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, Al Jalil Garden emerges as a captivating blend of natural beauty, modernity, and community spirit. With its picturesque landscapes, contemporary infrastructure, vibrant social scene, and commitment to sustainability, it offers residents a distinctive living experience that transcends the conventional notions of urban life. Whether seeking a tranquil retreat or a dynamic community, Al Jalil Garden stands as a beacon of excellence in the realm of residential developments.

#marketing #branding #entrepreneur #al jalil garden

[scifrey]

Hold Tight (3/6)

Status: Complete. Unbeta’d, we die like Hob doesn’t.

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse, but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Also includes some erotic content. Please curate your internet experience accordingly.

Relationships:  Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Past Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past), Hector Hall/Lyta Hall (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Lyta Trevor-Hall, Daniel Hall, Rose Walker, Jed Walker 

Summary:

Hob is tasked with his first quest as Vassal of the Endless, Morpheus is bad at using his words, Destiny thinks he’s so clever, Desire makes a confession, Rose Walker meets her Uncle’s boyfriend, and Lyta Hall punches Dream of the Endless in the nose. Or, the one where Hob Gadling turns into everyone’s therapist, and honestly, he ain’t mad about it.

Set at the end of Cling Fast - after the premiere of “Elizabethan Manor”, but before the Epilogue.

READ ON AO3 or below:

Chapter Three

Hob wakes the next morning to the ping of a text coming in on his phone. He cracks a bleary eye at his clock, and pouts when he realizes that his alarm is going to go off in three minutes and he doesn't have the time to roll over and ignore the Waking world for a little bit longer.

He feels rested—he always does, nowadays, no matter how busy or, ah, athletic his dreams are—but he's still bedsore from where he's been lying funny on his pillow. He sits up slowly, stretches and cracks his neck and shoulders, yawns wide and splays his toes like a cat. Rubbing the last of the grit from his eyes, only then does he pick up his phone and check his messages.

There are the normal ones that come in overnight: social media likes, emails from students obviously pulling all-nighters, automated push notifications about this promo code or that newsletter. None of them woke him, because he tries to have good sleep hygiene and sets his phone to Silent Mode before bed.

But somehow, one single text message had made a noise.

On purpose, it turns out.

Vassal - what are you doing? the text says. And comes from contact D#5. It takes Hob a moment to remember if Desire or Despair is the older twin.

Hob thinks about his response, dragging his body into the bathroom to unglue himself from his pants and wash the sex-sweat from his body. Feeling fresh and wearing a clean, dry pair of pants and nothing else, he goes into the kitchen to fill and start the electric kettle, then pulls down a mug and tea infuser.

Decision made, he types back: As I’m bid. 

There. 

It’s just civil enough to be polite, and just snarky enough to hopefully get Desire off his ass.

If Desire takes issue with Destiny's quest, then they can take it up with their elder brother themselves and leave Hob the fuck out of it. He's already got his hands full with trying to wrangle Dream over this Walkers-and-Halls-and-the-Importance-of-Family after school special nonsense. He doesn't have the emotional bandwidth to hold Desire's hand, too.

Of course, Desire clearly disagrees, because Hob is accosted on his way back from fetching lunch a few hours later. 

The breeze is brisk, the first promise of spring not quite strong enough to push off the lingering tattered winds of winter today. Hob fancies he can see the tightly furled buds on all of the trees along the grand university avenue pulling in tighter around themselves, shivering in their little verdant coats. Around him, students march between buildings with their hands punched into their coat pockets and their shoulders hunched up to protect their necks.

The world smells of approaching rain, and the tender crushed new-growth grass, and the coffee in his hand.

Hob has popped down to the Pret on the corner to pick up a flat white and caprese sandwich to take back to his office between classes. He’s just thinking about how much he wished it was warm enough to sit on a bench in the sun instead of huddling into his coat and scarf, when a beautiful person in a wide-brimmed hat a terribly a la mode androgynous white suit slides up to him on the sidewalk. They’re dressed more for a runway than a chilly afternoon outdoors.

The escaped-model falls into step with Hob. For a moment, he thinks that the person might ask for a selfie, that they’ve seen the show,  and is one of the well wishers or Shakespeare lovers who want their own brush with Hob's brand of extremely niche fame.

The minute he gets a look at the person's eyes—fire and honey—Hob understands what he's looking at. Or rather, who he's looking at. He gets the vague feeling that he's seen this face before, but then he's likely met all of the Endless before, in one incarnation or another. They have the uncanny ability to make you forget what they look like.

"Desire," he greets politely. "Forgive me for not offering a hand in greeting." He holds up his sandwich and coffee in demonstration.

Desire steps in front of Hob, arresting him right there on the sidewalk. They hold their own hand out. On one finger perches an ostentatious gold-and-fire-red ring with a stone in the shape of a heart. Hob is both smart enough and old enough to stoop quickly and kiss it.

Desire, he notes, has two shadows and smells faintly of peaches. He wonders if that's a hand-cream, or just the Endless themself.

"Charming," Desire pronounces, and they resume walking. "But you don't really desire it to be warm enough to sit outside in early April, do you?"

"Oh no," Hob agrees. "Climate change, global warming, bad stuff, absolutely. I just don't like the cold. It makes all the old war wounds ache."

Desire smiles at him with too many teeth. "I can warm you up."

Hob cuts an unimpressed look at the being. 

"Just an offer," they purr with a shrug.

"Not that I'm not delighted to finally meet you officially,” Hob says, “But to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hob can see them chewing on the word pleasure, working out a pun or an innuendo, and then deciding to let that one slide. "I come to lay a quest before you, vassal," they settle on.

“Okay,” Hob says, leading Desire up the steps into the History building. “So long as it doesn't interfere with my class schedule or my ability to turn my marks in on time, or the other quest I’m already pursuing, I'm happy to help you.”

Desire studies them as they hold open the door for him. "You really mean that."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You are my brother's creature," Desire says, following Hob into the building. "Surely that must make me your enemy."

The satellite campus of the University of York, nestled in one of the suitably historic and pokey areas of London, is filled with very old buildings that have painstakingly been brought up to code. They therefore leave behind the charming brick and stone exterior for the brutalist cement corridor, and Desire’s high heel clack with intriguing authority and mystery. It’s the kind of sound that is designed to make you want to poke your head of your office door to see who is making it.

Hob is impressed only one of his colleagues does so—the rest all be in class or the canteen themselves.

“Hey, Pradeep,” he greets the Politics of British India head. “Sup?”

“Hey Bob, hey…”

“This is Dez,” Hob offers up. “My partner’s sibling.”

Pradeep’s deeply quizzical look transforms into one of understanding and fondness. “Family coffee break?”

“Something like that.”

“Nice to meet you, Dez,” Pardeep says and ducks back into her office with her cheeks flagging crimson. 

“Woof,” Hob says in low tones as they pass her door, heading down the hall to his office. “Whatever mojo you’ve got wafting around, turn it down. I’ve never seen her blush like that.”

“Can’t help it,” Desire says, and the look on their face makes it clear that they’re not ever going to try helping it, either. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you changing the topic, Handsome Hobsie.”

Hob sighs and rolls his eyes. "Look, first, I'm your brother's lover, not his slave."

"You are his head priest," Desire points out, as if it's the same thing.

"Not at all," Hob demures. "And secondly, I'm Vassal of the Endless. It's my duty to help you out with the stuff you can't do for yourself. I'm never going to say no to you, Desire. And, you know full well I didn’t mean it like that," he tacks on, because ‘Vassal of the Endless’ apparently doesn’t mean ‘immune to their influence’ when they’re literally breathing the same air.

"Because you are my vassal?" Desire asks, dubious and perhaps, ah, yes, there it is, a little bit worried.

"And because you're the sibling of the man I love most in the entirety of existence. That makes you family."

"Family," Desire scoffs, but there's a tremble in the way they echo the word. As if they are realising, for the first time, that it actually can encompass good things, and not just the strife and spitting dissension that it does among the Endless. 

Hob squinches his sandwich under his arm, and roots through his pockets for his keys as they approach his office door. Before he can withdraw them, Desire waves their hand and the door creaks open slowly.

"That's handy," Hob allows. "Come on in, sit down. I have a feeling this is going to be a long conversation. Do you mind if I have my lunch as we talk?"

"Not at all," Desire allows, and slides themselves onto the sagging old sofa Hob has jammed up against one wall. Hob makes no comment when the sofa suddenly puffs back up, the springs repaired and the leather shiny and new-looking again.

Hob shuffled himself behind his battered desk, and into the creaky old wooden swivel chair that he’s had for, lord above, decades it must be now. The head of facilities keeps dropping hints that she’ll order him an ergonomic plastic-and-metal one in a heartbeat, but like a pair of clogs, Hob’s worn the perfect butt groove into this one and won’t part with it for love or money.

"Do you want a tea or something?” Hob’s got a little tea station and electric kettle on the top of his filing cabinet, half-hidden behind the overstuffed bookshelves. “Or I can run to the staff lounge, or…?"

"I have all I desire, for the moment," Desire purrs again, stretching out along the revitalised sofa. Clearly Morpheus is not the only cat-like sibling among the Endless. It should sound filthy, the way that Desire intonates their own name, but Hob's starting to become immune to Endless nonsense like that. They're just trying to wind him up.

As he'd decided this morning, he doesn't really have the emotional bandwidth for that today. So he's just going to ignore it. Better part of valour, and all that.

"Great, if you don't mind then," Hob says, sitting at his desk and tearing the foil off his sandwich. It's only slightly squished, and he takes a big bite. 

Meh, he's had better. He's had worse, too. It'll do.

"So I do gotta tell you," Hob says after he's swallowed his first few bites. "I'm already doing the vassal thing for one of your other siblings right now. Is this something that can wait until that's done or…?"

"I believe," Desire says, fingers fidgeting with the long pearl necklaces they're wearing, and huh, that looks like nerves, Hob thinks. "That perhaps Destiny's quest and my own, ah, intersect?"

It's the first time Hob's heard one of the Endless sound unsure. He waits for the universe to crack, or for a fissure to Hell to open beneath them, or for the sound of the seas boiling. Instead the clock over his door continues to tick loudly, and there is no sound but the rustle of his sandwich wrapper.

"Alright," Hob says. "Lay it on me."

He keeps going at his lunch, though, because he has a feeling that as soon as Desire says what they want to say, he's going to have to get back on his feet and start vassal-ing. And it's no good going on adventures on an empty stomach, he already knows this.

"I desire…" Desire sits up and folds their hands over their knees with studied demureness, eyes lowered to their red-talon nails. "I desire a relationship with my grandchildren."

"Oookay," Hob says between bites, chewing on the food and this revelation. Intersecting quests, indeed, Hob thinks.

"Though my brother may tell you otherwise, I am capable of loving them," Desire snaps, fire flashing through their golden eyes when they glare up at him.

"I never said you couldn't," Hob says placatingly. "I'm listening. Go on."

"While the Endless are forbidden from romantic relationships with mortals, we are capable of feeling love for them. And parental love for the result of those unions."

"Did you love Unity Kincade?" Hob asks gently.

Desire fiddles with a locket on the rope of pearls, a gold heart that they snap open and closed–snick snick snick snick. Hob has no idea what, if anything, is inside it. He couldn’t even begin to guess who or what Desire of the Endless might want to honour in such a sentiment-laden way.

"No," they eventually confess. "To my shame, no. I used her because she was the Vortex, and it would hurt Dream. I could make him spill family blood, which is the only and ultimate sin for the Endless. It would mean his own doom, and I hated him…" Desire says, fisting their other hand on their knee, before taking a deep breath and forcing themselves to flex the fingers, to relax. "I hated him and I wanted him to suffer."

"He has suffered. Are you happy about that?" Hob asks mildly, challengingly. He sips his coffee and tries to make it clear with the warmth of his expression that he's not accusing or throwing anything back in Desire's face. He just wants to know.

Desire squirms again. "I thought it would make me happy. But I stood beside Roderick Burgess as he foamed over with vile, poisonous desire for that which my brother could not provide him, and Dream could not see me. He was… he looked…" Desire shakes their head. "And it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, because it was not at my hand, so I found the Vortex and I…"

Hob waits them out.

"I'm not a rapist!" Desire blurts, all of a sudden. They press their palm against the chest, as if expecting to find a wound there, gushing blood, and is surprised to find themselves whole. "Unity Kincaid was a means to an end. And desire is not the same as love. All the same… I cared for her, in my way. The realm of Dreams was shut off, for her, being what she was a victim of the Sleepy Sickness  both. So I took her into the Threshold, made a home of it for her, became the man of her greatest childish romantic fantasies. I made of myself lover and husband, and father, and her life was good, there. With me.”

“Playing house,” Hob says, wanting to be very clear on his understanding of the events.

“Playing house,” Desire says softly. “But when it was over, I pushed her out of my realm without a second thought. I sent her back to the Waking, and cared only if Rose Walker would punish my brother as I designed."

"But she didn't," Hob ways, tossing his empty wrapper into the bin by the door. It bounces once and then against all the rules of physics and gravity, tips into the bin because he wants it to, and Desire is in the same room as him.

"That child was born of my hate," Desire says, confusion rippling across their whole body. "And Dream showed her such love."

"And that confuses you?"

Desire just nods.

Hob scrubs his hand over his eyes, and wonders how such incredible cosmic beings can be so stupid. "Desire—you're his sibling. Of course he loves you. And of course he'd love your children, as well."

"But he doesn't like me," Desire protests.

Hob shrugs. "Well, there were days that I didn't like Matilde, or Isobel, or John. But I didn't stop loving them. Or Mattie and Isa's children, and grandchildren."

Desire glares at Hob flatly. "I wanted Dream dead."

"Okay, so your family is… yeah, complicated," Hob settles on. "You all are big universal concepts, with big personalities, and therefore big problems. I’m honestly surprised that there isn’t a Drama of the Endless.”

Desire snorts, an inelegant sound that fills Hob with warm fuzzies and pride. It’s rare that he gets to surprise one of the Endless enough to make them spill out awkward sounds. “My brother holds that subsidiary title among his vast list of others.”

Hob sips his coffee and gives Desire his best best oh come now professor-look over the rim.

Desire huffs. “It is one that we share,” they admit.

“True,” Hob says. “And listen, I’m not trying to minimise what you said, about how deeply vindictive what you did was. But also… you've all suffered. You've had traumas. Bigger, scarier, more hurtful things than I’m sure I’ll ever understand. But you’re all also just… just people. And as people, we hurt the ones we love the most in the most desperate, painful ways possible, because we know them so well, because we love them.”

Desire says nothing to that, but looks away, at Hob’s messy bookshelf, golden eyes unfocussed and introspective. They chew on their thumbnail thoughtfully.

“I wanted him dead,” Desire says again, but this time it sounds more like a question. “Surely, Uncle Dream will never let me near the children now.”

Hob takes a moment to digest that. “Morpheus is not their gatekeeper.”

“Is it you I must convince, then?” Desire asks, and they lean forward earnestly, ready to say whatever pretty thing they think Hob needs to hear.

Which is… not how it goes.

“I’m not their keeper, either. It’s Rose and Jed themselves,” Hob says. “You gotta lay it all out for them and let them make up their own minds. And it won’t be easy, but I think if you come to them with a genuine apology and a genuine, heh, desire to be a good part of their lives, I don’t see why they wouldn’t want a relationship with you, too.”

Desire snorts and slumps back against the sofa. “Because they only exist as the result of a fratricide plot?”

“One that didn’t work,” Hob points out. “Are you still planning to kill Dream now?”

“No!” Desire gasps. “I… no.”

“Because he threatened you, or because you genuinely don’t want him dead anymore?”

Desire snorts again. “Does it matter?” they ask, dismissing the topic.

Hob does not allow the topic to be dismissed. “Yes, it does. If you sit there and tell me that you’re planning to harm my beloved, we’re going to have a problem.” Hob allows something of the old bandit to glint in his eye, puts the swing of a sword and the hot spray of aerial blood into the grim line of his mouth.

Desire regards him with genuine surprise, which slowly morphs into something Hob suspects might be respect. They sit up and meet Hob’s eyes with all the gravitas of a monarch laying forth an edict.

“I no longer wish to harm Dream of the Endless, nor specifically the facet known as Morpheus, this I swear to you on the First Circle,” Desire intones seriously. “Nor shall I knowingly seek cause him harm in the future.”

Every hair that Hob’s got–and to be fair, he has rather a lot of them–stands straight up. A frisson wracks his body, something like a gong, and also at the same time something like the roaring silence of the end of the universe jams up his ears. He knows, he knows, in the deepest part of his soul, that this is not the kind of oath that any being takes lightly.

“Thank you,” Hob chokes out, struggling to breathe around the intent that is so thick in the air that he can taste it, heavy and grim on his tongue.

“Besides,” Desire says gravely, and then suddenly the atmosphere is broken when they throw up their arms with a seductive giggle. “I like you too much to get on your bad side, Handsome Hobsie.”

“Oh, well,” Hob says, clearing his throat with a thin chuckle of his own. “If only to spare my ire, then.”

“I would rather…” Desire starts, and then stops. When they speak again, their voice is very, very small. “I wish it could be as it was. At the start. Back when he loved me.”

Hob lets that hang between them for a moment. He wishes there wasn’t a desk and half an office between them, because he thinks that Desire could really use a hug right now. 

“Listen, I’ll be honest,” Hob says instead. “I don't think you're toxic, not to the point where you can't work things out with Dream. Not to the point where I think it's better for you, or him, to go non-communicative. And you wanting to find a way to have a good and healthy relationship with your grandchildren? You coming to me to help? This right here? This is proof that you can be better. That you can work toward it, the same way that Morpheus is working toward it."

Desire blinks at Hob at that. "Dream is working on bettering himself?"

“Yeah, he's working on himself,” Hob says gently. “He's been in a millennia long depression since the death of his son. He had to start climbing out of the hole, or it’d drag him down. And, I’m gonna flatter myself here, I think if he didn’t have outside support, he might have let it.”

Hob should probably feel a little more guilty about airing his lover’s dirty laundry so casually, but he was talking with one of the undeniable forces of the universe. They absolutely already knew. Though knowing and understanding seem to be two separate things for the Endless. 

"Depression," Desire murmurs, thoughtfully. "That is not an Endless sibling I am familiar with."

"And let's hope you never do become acquainted," Hob says gently. “Frankly, I think the whole lot of you could use therapy, but it’s not my place to say so.”

Desire shoots them a smirk. “And yet you just did.”

Hob finishes his coffee instead of answering, utterly unrepentant.

“Well, what an indulgent waste of a quarter of an hour this has turned out to be,” Desire harrumphs. “I came to you with a quest and your response is to tell me go to therapy.”

“You never told me how to solve your problem,” Hob points out.  “Only that as your vassal, I have to.”

“Cheeky vassal.”

“Stubborn liege,” Hob reposts. "Now, I hate to kick you out, but my office hours start in three minutes, and I know for a fact Cassie is freaking out about her poster presentation and will be here at 2pm on the dot."

"Cassandra O'Brian desires to keep her scholarship so she can escape her living situation," Desire murmurs. 

"She's a smart kid. I have every faith that she'll succeed," Hob agrees.

"Still, as a devotee, I should reward her dedication," Desire says, rising. "This I will do as a favour to you, Hob Gadling. In return for helping me."

"If I'm honest," Hob says, climbing to his own feet to get the door for Desire, which feels like an appropriately gentlemanly and vassal-y thing to do. "You don't need to do anything in return for me. The reward will, I hope, be the improved relationship between you, and Dream, and the kids. All the same, Cassie deserves to have her dreams come true, so you won't get any complaints from me. Just don't break her heart, yeah?"

Desire lopes over to the door, predatory and confident again, now that they are back in more familiar territory.

"I make no promises, Hob Gadling," Desire rumbles, and tucks two of their fingers under Hob's chin to raise it up, so that they can meet his eyes. Gosh, those heels make them tall. "I do, however, express my gratitude for taking up this task for me, and grant you my protection and favour in return as you do so."

And then they kiss him.

It is long, and slow, and not at all chaste. But Hob keeps his mouth closed, and his eyes open, and doesn't let Desire get a rise out of him.

"Pah, you're no fun," Desire sighs, wiping a bit of red-red-red lipstick off his lower lip with their thumb. Then they sashay out the door, and vanish in a cloud of cinnamon-heart-scented glitter halfway down the hall.

If Hob catches Pradeep running her fingers through it with an intensely confused look on her face a few hours later, well, that’s between Hob and the glitter.

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

#losyark #hold tight #cling fast #cling fast adjacent #hob x dream #dream x hob #dreamling fic #dream #dreamling #desire of the endless #dream of the endless #professor hob gadling #hob gadling #the hob adherent series #hob adherent #netflix the sandman #the sandman fanfic #sandman fic #sandman

[abookisafriend]

the fifth sacred thing, by starhawk: four and a half out of five honeybees

i've been looking forward to this book for a long time. it's a classic of utopian literature…and dystopian literature. can a pacifist society survive contact with a militarized society…and keep its soul intact?

the first third or so of the book establishes the community around which the book is based. an egalitarian commune has grown out of the rubble of post-apocalyptic san francisco, and they face all the challenges of life plus the dread of what could happen when the replacement for the old u.s. government comes knocking to "claim" its old territory. that government is an amalgam of corporate rule, military domination, and pseudoreligious oppression that controls every aspect of life, down to the water.

the book was written in 1993, and -- except for the frequent mentions of the ozone layer, which we were actually able to fix, it seems prescient. early reviewers called the mixture of fascism and pseudochristianity an "overused SF bugbear" (thanks wikipedia), but it's exactly what we're facing today. the question of whether we can survive peacefully -- whether we can transform the virulent enemy culture before it kills us or makes us monsters ourselves -- is the central question of the novel.

the portrayal of fascist rule is brutal. nothing is held back. this is not a novel for people who have ptsd flashbacks.

at the same time, the portrayal of mundo bueno -- the good world -- is so lavish and loving that it's worth reading the first third of the book just to see starhawk's vision of what is possible. witness the streets with clean fishing streams running beside them, the avenues lined with sweet fruit trees and verdant gardens. witness the love and freedom possible with a community of lovers. that's a major aspect of the book: it's an advertisement for the future. the future we can win if we set down divisions and power struggles of "race," gender, and class…a shamelessly queer and polyamorous future, i might add, and a future in which all ancestries and cultures are celebrated in a kind of joyful melange anchored in respect for the four sacred things, which cannot be owned or stolen -- earth, air, water, and fire -- and the most subtle of all, the fifth sacred thing, spirit.

it's a novel full of magic and miracles, but the thesis of the novel doesn't depend on anything supernatural: it just depends on the question of whether humanity can be awakened even in those in whom it has been deliberately crushed to make them subservient tools of a killing machine. what it really comes down to is the conscience of the universal soldier.

i'm going to end the review with this video, in the spirit of starhawk's call to compassion. what if they gave a war and, finally, nobody came? all told, a fantastic effort; a classic: five out of five honeybees

#the fifth sacred thing #you gotta read this book #utopia #dystopia #utopian fiction #dystopian fiction #scifi #sf #science fiction #fantasy #science fantasy #book review #book reviews #review #reviews #queer lit #starhawk #Youtube

[aroundtheworldwithphillyfogg]

December 3rd: San Francisco, where Verne really has it for Americans

(warning for the N word)

on the 3rd of December, the “General Grant” entered the bay of the Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco.

Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a single day.

It was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout set foot upon the American continent, if this name can be given to the floating quay upon which they disembarked. These quays, rising and falling with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and unloading of vessels. Alongside them were clippers of all sizes, steamers of all nationalities, and the steamboats, with several decks rising one above the other, which ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries. There were also heaped up the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico, Chili, Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia, and all the Pacific islands.

Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American continent, thought he would manifest it by executing a perilous vault in fine style; but, tumbling upon some worm-eaten planks, he fell through them. Put out of countenance by the manner in which he thus “set foot” upon the New World, he uttered a loud cry, which so frightened the innumerable cormorants and pelicans that are always perched upon these movable quays, that they flew noisily away.

Mr. Fogg, on reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour the first train left for New York, and learned that this was at six o’clock p.m.; he had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the Californian capital. Taking a carriage at a charge of three dollars, he and Aouda entered it, while Passepartout mounted the box beside the driver, and they set out for the International Hotel.

From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much curiosity the wide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon Gothic churches, the great docks, the palatial wooden and brick warehouses, the numerous conveyances, omnibuses, horse-cars, and upon the side-walks, not only Americans and Europeans, but Chinese and Indians. Passepartout was surprised at all he saw. San Francisco was no longer the legendary city of 1849—a city of banditti, assassins, and incendiaries, who had flocked hither in crowds in pursuit of plunder; a paradise of outlaws, where they gambled with gold-dust, a revolver in one hand and a bowie-knife in the other: it was now a great commercial emporium.

The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of the streets and avenues, which cut each other at right-angles, and in the midst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares, while beyond appeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the Celestial Empire in a toy-box. Sombreros and red shirts and plumed Indians were rarely to be seen; but there were silk hats and black coats everywhere worn by a multitude of nervously active, gentlemanly-looking men. Some of the streets—especially Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco what Regent Street is to London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris, and Broadway to New York—were lined with splendid and spacious stores, which exposed in their windows the products of the entire world.

When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not seem to him as if he had left England at all.

The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort of restaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of dried beef, oyster soup, biscuits, and cheese, without taking out their purses. Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or sherry which was drunk. This seemed “very American” to Passepartout. The hotel refreshment-rooms were comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing themselves at a table, were abundantly served on diminutive plates by negroes of darkest hue.

After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the English consulate to have his passport visaed. As he was going out, he met Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well, before taking the train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield rifles and Colt’s revolvers. He had been listening to stories of attacks upon the trains by the Sioux and Pawnees. Mr. Fogg thought it a useless precaution, but told him to do as he thought best, and went on to the consulate.

He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when, “by the greatest chance in the world,” he met Fix. The detective seemed wholly taken by surprise. What! Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed the Pacific together, and not met on the steamer! At least Fix felt honoured to behold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so much, and, as his business recalled him to Europe, he should be delighted to continue the journey in such pleasant company.

Mr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his; and the detective—who was determined not to lose sight of him—begged permission to accompany them in their walk about San Francisco—a request which Mr. Fogg readily granted.

They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd was collected; the side-walks, street, horsecar rails, the shop-doors, the windows of the houses, and even the roofs, were full of people. Men were going about carrying large posters, and flags and streamers were floating in the wind; while loud cries were heard on every hand.

“Hurrah for Camerfield!”

“Hurrah for Mandiboy!”

It was a political meeting; at least so Fix conjectured, who said to Mr. Fogg, “Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd. There may be danger in it.”

“Yes,” returned Mr. Fogg; “and blows, even if they are political, are still blows.”

Fix smiled at this remark; and, in order to be able to see without being jostled about, the party took up a position on the top of a flight of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery Street. Opposite them, on the other side of the street, between a coal wharf and a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been erected in the open air, towards which the current of the crowd seemed to be directed.

For what purpose was this meeting? What was the occasion of this excited assemblage? Phileas Fogg could not imagine. Was it to nominate some high official—a governor or member of Congress? It was not improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.

Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass. All the hands were raised in the air. Some, tightly closed, seemed to disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries—an energetic way, no doubt, of casting a vote. The crowd swayed back, the banners and flags wavered, disappeared an instant, then reappeared in tatters. The undulations of the human surge reached the steps, while all the heads floundered on the surface like a sea agitated by a squall. Many of the black hats disappeared, and the greater part of the crowd seemed to have diminished in height.

“It is evidently a meeting,” said Fix, “and its object must be an exciting one. I should not wonder if it were about the ‘Alabama,’ despite the fact that that question is settled.”

“Perhaps,” replied Mr. Fogg, simply.

“At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the Honourable Mr. Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Mandiboy.”

Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg’s arm, observed the tumultuous scene with surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of it all was. Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose; hurrahs and excited shouts were heard; the staffs of the banners began to be used as offensive weapons; and fists flew about in every direction. Thumps were exchanged from the tops of the carriages and omnibuses which had been blocked up in the crowd. Boots and shoes went whirling through the air, and Mr. Fogg thought he even heard the crack of revolvers mingling in the din, the rout approached the stairway, and flowed over the lower step. One of the parties had evidently been repulsed; but the mere lookers-on could not tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had gained the upper hand.

“It would be prudent for us to retire,” said Fix, who was anxious that Mr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they got back to London. “If there is any question about England in all this, and we were recognised, I fear it would go hard with us.”

“An English subject—” began Mr. Fogg.

He did not finish his sentence; for a terrific hubbub now arose on the terrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and there were frantic shouts of, “Hurrah for Mandiboy! Hip, hip, hurrah!”

It was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and taking the Camerfield forces in flank. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix found themselves between two fires; it was too late to escape. The torrent of men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was irresistible. Phileas Fogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their attempts to protect their fair companion; the former, as cool as ever, tried to defend himself with the weapons which nature has placed at the end of every Englishman’s arm, but in vain. A big brawny fellow with a red beard, flushed face, and broad shoulders, who seemed to be the chief of the band, raised his clenched fist to strike Mr. Fogg, whom he would have given a crushing blow, had not Fix rushed in and received it in his stead. An enormous bruise immediately made its appearance under the detective’s silk hat, which was completely smashed in.

“Yankee!” exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the ruffian.

“Englishman!” returned the other. “We will meet again!”

“When you please.”

“What is your name?”

“Phileas Fogg. And yours?”

“Colonel Stamp Proctor.”

The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily got upon his feet again, though with tattered clothes. Happily, he was not seriously hurt. His travelling overcoat was divided into two unequal parts, and his trousers resembled those of certain Indians, which fit less compactly than they are easy to put on. Aouda had escaped unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and blue bruise.

“Thanks,” said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out of the crowd.

“No thanks are necessary,” replied Fix; “but let us go.”

“Where?”

“To a tailor’s.”

Such a visit was, indeed, opportune. The clothing of both Mr. Fogg and Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively engaged in the contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour after, they were once more suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the International Hotel.

Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen six-barrelled revolvers. When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows; but Aouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure, his countenance resumed its placid expression. Fix evidently was no longer an enemy, but an ally; he was faithfully keeping his word.

Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and their luggage to the station drew up to the door. As he was getting in, Mr. Fogg said to Fix, “You have not seen this Colonel Proctor again?”

“No.”

“I will come back to America to find him,” said Phileas Fogg calmly. “It would not be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be treated in that way, without retaliating.”

The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear that Mr. Fogg was one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate duelling at home, fight abroad when their honour is attacked.

At a quarter before six the travellers reached the station, and found the train ready to depart. As he was about to enter it, Mr. Fogg called a porter, and said to him: “My friend, was there not some trouble to-day in San Francisco?”

“It was a political meeting, sir,” replied the porter.

“But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the streets.”

“It was only a meeting assembled for an election.”

“The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“No, sir; of a justice of the peace.”

Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.

#around the world in 80 days #Jules Verne #around the world in 80 dailies

[env0writes]

Freshwater Fires; Stillwater Reflections 11.9.22 “Sub Urban, Sub Standard, Subsistence”

Lie still, Lisle, It’s been a while Since I’ve wandered your streets Tightroping barefoot where the tar meets      That promise a town could make for tomorrow Those aimless, winding Green Trails, As verdant as they are innocent vales Did the luster leave my eyes Along with the color of your skies,       The only ocean a township can set sail upon Progeny of the windy city expansion This ‘burb and curb I sit upon, my generation Desperate to escape the Amtrak’s reach Pick a rail and aim for the coastal beach       We were so eager to see beyond plain great plains When the train pulled up past Fifth Avenue Not a piece was in its place to view I was taller, the world grown smaller still Had I changed my opinion of the suburb’s bill       Or was I happy to be humidly home and humanely known? All it took for a one road downtown Struggling to keep its education budget down To send me and others on our way With little to nothing to stop this diasporadic play       We were keen to never return to that hill Shall I settle my last will and testament in Lisle? Round winding Breckenridge where we were juvenile I yearn for the home that has been scraped clean Filigreed with hubris and a greed too mean       Eager to mature beyond its small town borders Home, is a place I built inside with you all Coursing red within me winding like trails we call, Our own In the only ownership we can afford to have grown       What does it mean to outgrow where you come from? Drink your fill of Lisle Drown your sorrows in style Retention ponds, archipelago playground Prairie state, nary a state of stagnancy found       Tomorrow is all a town can hope for

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist!   Photo by @mynamemeanscloud 

#writeblrcafe #chicago poet #carl sandburg #spilled ink #poeticstories #long poem #env0 writes #twcpoetry #inkstay #poetryportal #themonkeyreview #writerscreed #heartsacrossthestreet #abstractcommunity #savage words #smittenbypoetry #poetscreed #poetryriot #poets and writers #poets community #poetelixir #creative writing #new poets society #alt lit #burningmuse #midwest poet #suburban gothic #chicago #lisle #freshwater fires stillwater reflections

[lananiscorner]

3H route lords and/or Tim Drake? 👀

Thanks for your ask, writtendown-woundup!

Edelgard critical beneath the cut. Don't like, don't read.

Claude:

If you look up "wasted potential" in the dictionary, you will not find Claude's picture there, because the creators seem to be allergic to putting him where he belongs. Claude has such an interesting premise! He's a biracial person who has experienced discrimination from both sides of his heritage. He's got trust issues, but he wants to build a world based on trust. He is always seeking knowledge about the world, but refuses to let the world gain knowledge about him. He's a schemer and honestly a bit of an ass sometimes, but at the end of the day, he can be the most dependable and caring person. There are so many fascinating avenues you could explore with this guy! You could wave the most intricate, 5 dimensional Xanathos gambit chess plot with this dude... and yet somehow the writing staff at KT/IS looked at this man and decided what he really needs is a copy-pasted Black Eagles route. Twice. What a tragic waste.

Dimitri:

Dimitri is my favorite character in FE3H, no contest. I love how his greatest strengths are also his greatest weaknesses. I love how they did not shy away from depicting him at his darkest, while not denying him a hopeful ending. I love how you can see his gradual descent into psychotic breakdown happen just as clearly as his gradual recovery. I love how much he loves his country and its people while acknowledging their flaws. Also, he's the best enemy phase unit in the game. I just love Dimitri. It doesn't matter which route I play--if I play 3 Houses, I think of Dimitri, and if it's not his route, I think of what's happening to him in Faerghus while I'm busy elsewhere. As for "they got done dirty by the fans"--Dimitri fans are a mostly chill and wholesome bunch, as far as I have seen, but my GODDESS have I seen some rancid takes about him from Edelstans (calling him a conservative status quo centrist, an epitome of toxic masculinity, someone who had to be put down for his own good... ughhhh).

Edelgard

Okay, so this may come as a shock to some, but I don't actually hate Edelgard. I think she is a perfectly fine example of a nuanced and flawed character. As a villain. I don't know what kind of mental gymnastics must be involved in considering her a hero, because imo she lost any hope of being that (and instead went into "what's wrong with them" territory) the moment she gave her absolutely bonkers war speech and declared war on two sovereign nations. She definitely got done dirty by the writing, what with both CF and her supports refusing to let her suffer any meaningful consequences for her actions, and her attraction to Byleth being uncomfortably shoved into routes where it makes no sense (particularly Verdant Wind). If I were to meet her, I would probably try to deck her in the face, only to get Mired into oblivion by Hubert.

Tim Drake:

This was a tough one, because... who even is Tim? Which of his many volumes of depictions are we talking about? This is why I don't have much to say about him, except Tim is a character who works best when he has someone else to play off of, ideally Bruce, Dick, Jason, or Damian. He has certainly had a number of hair-raising wtf moments in his appearances (e.g. treatment of Stephanie in certain issues, his treatment of Jason in Teen Titans Vol. 3 #47, and that one mini series in New 52/Rebirth, the name of which I can't recall, where he went full megalomaniac psychopath and turned out to be the villain orchestrating some multi-dimensional shenanigans). That said, he can also be a massive, extremely likeable nerd sometimes.

#asks #writtendown-woundup #character opinion bingo #fe3h #Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd #Edel von Hresvelg #Edelgard critical #Claude von Riegan #Tim Drake

[poisonerspath]

Really looking forward to this publication of Alraune! If anyone is interested in submitting an article there is still a little time!!! Please do not DM me about this, I am simply sharing! Posted @withrepost • @hexen_press 🐍 ALRAUNE 2 : CALL FOR CONTRIBUTORS We are very pleased to launch the call for contributors for the second tome of Alraune with a new edition entirely dedicated to the Poison Path. We invite writers and artists to partake to this new collaborative project by sending their contributions to [email protected] The second edition of Alraune Journal is dedicated to the exploration of the Poison Path with a focus on personal gnosis and practices offering a reification of what has been gained through the Poisoners dealing with the Spirits and Genii of the Verdant, Divine and Daimonic Intoxication. As the many plants haunting the enchanted grove of the Midnight Eden possess their own particular signatures, we aim to offer with this second release a unique panacea of visions, experiences and practices, reflecting in their diversity the various modalities of expression, gnosis and personae of those engaged in the Poisonous Artes. A compendium of refined Veneficia offered as the Serpent's Gift of Gnosis from Practitioners to Practitioners. It is to acknowledge this diversity and offer new avenues of reflection that we invite contributors to this second issue of Alraune. We aim to gather a compendium of practices and experiences from various traditions, myths, inclinations and sorcerous fates, to widen the perspectives of those walking the perilous way of the Poison Path. > Read the full call: https://www.hexen.fr/en/11-alraune-2 Please share and many thanks for your support. 🔥🙏 Calligraphy: @infekt777 #poisonpath #alraune #alraunejournal #hexenpress #pharmacopoeia #entheogens #poisonous #veneficia #herbalism https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck_U7JqL2zG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#poisonpath #alraune #alraunejournal #hexenpress #pharmacopoeia #entheogens #poisonous #veneficia #herbalism

[borealis-star]

At the point when the Front Door Isn't the Front

We have a word to portray the fundamental door that people use to enter and leave their home. We consider it the "front" door when we mean the door that is either utilized the most or the one with the inferred convention as the door that one would click here to learn more get visitors from, contrasted with a secondary passage. But, in a Feng Shui examination, the "front" door may not be on the "front" or facing side of the house.

In my own home, the "front" door is on the house. One necessities to stroll up a pathway at the edge of the house to get there as it isn't the exemplary front door which obviously faces the road. But I actually call it the front door.

At the point when we dissect a house, it is basic to know the front from the back, alluding to them as the facing versus the sitting side. Way down the rundown is the area of the principal or front door, in deciding the real facing side. We search for the most "yang" elements, for example, sees, greatest windows, greatest rooms and alert rooms to quantify the yin and yang characteristics of any floor plan or outside climate.

An exemplary illustration of a "front" door which is situated at the "Feng Shui sitting side" would be the apartment with windows on the rival side, all else other than the door intended for the opposite course. A huge home on a slope with broad perspectives out the "back" may really be facing the patio or away from the road side. Ocean side homes normally attempt to exploit the sea sees.

Since "front" sounds inseparable from facing, I have attempted to prepare myself to simply call the door with the proper viewpoints to it, the "fundamental" door or the "entrance" door as opposed to calling it the front door. This decreases disarray when say the house faces east, yet the primary door is on the north side.

The idea of "sitting" versus "facing" is a significant educating to handle immediately in your Feng Shui studies since there are numerous applications or "cures" in view of knowing the right orientation of the house. On the off chance that a house needs water behind it, you or your expert specialist need to realize what genuinely is the back. For non-clear situations, you want to evaluate both inside and outside signs, frequently tracking down clashing proof. I as of late surveyed an apartment with significant perspectives to the central avenue. But there was an overhang view to an all the more tranquil green area, which might have qualified as the "front yard" for a group of apartment buildings which all had galleries facing this verdant area. What to do? As a rule there will be a sudden death round, or some component which responds to the question about orientation.

#youtube

[honeychildoz]

🌊“All that you touch, You Change. All that you Change, Changes You. The only lasting truth is Change.” -Octavia Butler. So do not fear change. Embrace new avenues and frontiers less traveled. There will be unknowns but as we always tell our children - that is when we can leverage the better parts of ourselves, understand what needs improvement and gravitate toward growth. .~Octavia Butler 🌊🌊 Butler would grow up to write and publish a dozen novels and a collection of short stories. She did not believe in talent as much as hard work. She never told an aspiring writer they should give up, rather that they should learn, study, observe, and persist. Persistence was the lesson she received from her mother, her grandmother, and her aunt. In her lifetime, she would become the first published Black female science-fiction writer and be considered one of the forebears of Afrofuturism. “I may never get the chance to do all the things I want to do,” a 17-year-old Butler wrote in her journals, now archived at the Huntington Library in Pasadena. 🌊🌊 Today we honor Woman of the Waves Octavia Butler. She wrote herself into immortality. She was an Encourager, and a humble genius. Now that she is gone the World is exalting her work and her clear and distinct fingerprints on Science Fiction. Join us for an Outstanding moment of Community. We have a trio of musicians weaving with Tamas. The Napolean Street Park is such a lush and verdant space that has inspired a delicious Creole picnic I am most proud to serve Y'all. Please join us if you can. Tickets 👇🏽👇🏽 https://events.humanitix.com/women-of-the-waves/tickets?fbclid=IwAR3ISfR6C_qkcfe1Bi6X6OYgKpBCUCSgoU3E8rFPpR0hdgS4MJbBS4ig2Qk #lalinroka #roamingtreesstorytelling #honeychildscreolecatering #livemusic #feasting #womenofthewaves #octaviabutler #genius #afrofuturism #scifi #hobart #immersivestorytelling https://www.instagram.com/p/CluV8vZhdM1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#lalinroka #roamingtreesstorytelling #honeychildscreolecatering #livemusic #feasting #womenofthewaves #octaviabutler #genius #afrofuturism #scifi #hobart #immersivestorytelling

[urbanrise]

Urbanrise Codename City: Infinite Life

Urbanrise Paradise on Earth is a premier residential villa project near Kanakapura Road in South Bangalore, designed for those seeking a luxurious yet sustainable lifestyle. Spanning 24 acres of lush greenery, this development showcases Urbanrise's best luxury living concepts. It features spacious 4 BHK villas, with some offering additional space for a home office and maid's room. Villa sizes range from 2472 Sq. Ft to 3009 Sq. Ft, each with its private garden. The enclave is home to over 1500 trees, creating a verdant oasis amidst the city's vibrancy.

Urbanrise development boasts an impressive suite of amenities, including a 32,000 Sq. Ft clubhouse, landscaped gardens, a gymnasium, luxury-glamping spots, an infinity swimming pool, recreation rooms, outdoor sports courts, a children's play area, and a party hall. Residents enjoy 24/7 security for safety and peace of mind.

Urbanrise City offers a variety of villa options at different price points:

4 BHK Villas (2472-2526 Sq. Ft) priced from Rs. 2.88 CR to 2.92 CR.

Larger 4 BHK Villas (2647-2715 Sq. Ft) priced from Rs. 3.10 CR to 3.21 CR.

4 BHK Villas with Home Office and Maid's Room (2972-3009 Sq. Ft) priced from Rs. 3.53 CR to 3.56 CR.

Strategically located at the junction of Kanakapura Road and Mysore Road, this project offers excellent connectivity to key locations such as BGS International Residential School, Kengeri, Kumbalagodu, NICE Road, Banashankari, and other major hubs. Easy access to important highways makes commuting and weekend trips convenient.

Urbanrise City with infinite life integrates sustainability into its design, encouraging organic gardening to promote an eco-friendly and self-sufficient lifestyle. The community harmonizes with its natural surroundings, with tree-lined avenues and ample green spaces, creating a tranquil atmosphere for residents.

Urbanrise Situated on Kanakapura Road, a major thoroughfare in Bangalore, this development benefits from a blend of urban amenities and scenic beauty. Urbanrise Whitefield the road stretches about 50 kilometers, connecting Bangalore to Kanakapura town and providing easy access to popular spots like Shivanasamudra Falls, Bheemeshwari, and Sangama. The rapid development along urbanrise Kanakapura Road has made it an attractive location, with numerous residential, commercial, and recreational developments contributing to its appeal.

Overall, Urbanrise paradise on earth offers a unique blend of luxury, sustainability, and connectivity, providing residents with a modern lifestyle that maintains a strong connection to nature.

#urbanrise whitefield #urbanrise bangalore #urbanrise city with infinite life #urbanrise #urbanrise housing

[landandbuildings]

Unlocking Opportunities: School on Lease in Gurgaon

In the bustling city of Gurgaon, where the pace of life seems to accelerate with each passing day, the need for quality education stands as paramount. Families are constantly on the lookout for institutions that not only impart knowledge but also nurture the holistic development of their children. Amidst this quest for excellence, a unique opportunity arises - the availability of school on lease in Gurgaon.

Meeting Educational Needs

Finding the ideal location for establishing a school can be a daunting task. However, with the option of leasing school plots in Gurgaon, educational entrepreneurs are presented with a promising solution. By tapping into this opportunity, they can cater to the educational needs of the community while also exploring the potential for growth and innovation in the field of education.

Strategic Location Advantage

Gurgaon, often dubbed as the millennium city, boasts of rapid urbanization and infrastructural development. Its strategic location in close proximity to the national capital, New Delhi, makes it a favourable destination for investment in the education sector. With the availability of school plot for sale in Gurgaon, investors have the chance to establish educational institutions in prime locations, ensuring accessibility and convenience for students and parents alike.

Facilitating Growth and Expansion

Leasing school plots in Gurgaon not only provides an avenue for immediate establishment but also paves the way for future expansion. The dynamic nature of the city offers ample opportunities for growth, allowing educational institutions to evolve and adapt to changing trends and demands. Moreover, by securing a lease, entrepreneurs can mitigate the financial risks associated with outright purchase, thus enabling the strategic allocation of resources for sustainable development.

Creating Impactful Learning Environments

The decision to lease a school plot in Gurgaon goes beyond mere commercial considerations; it is about creating impactful learning environments that foster creativity, innovation, and holistic growth. With access to modern amenities and facilities, educational institutions can create conducive spaces for students to explore, learn, and excel. Moreover, by being part of a vibrant community, schools can collaborate with other stakeholders to enhance the overall educational experience.

Conclusion:

The availability of schools on lease in Gurgaon presents a golden opportunity for educational entrepreneurs to make a meaningful impact in the field of education while also exploring avenues for growth and expansion. By tapping into this opportunity, they can contribute towards shaping the future generation and building a vibrant community. For more information on available school plots and leasing options, visit Winworld Realty at winworldrealty.in.

For More Info:-

 saan verdante

vatika chowk underpass

Nursery school for sale in gurgaon