#Internal process

[imrovementcompany]

Creating an Effective Internal Process Standard Operating Procedure (SOP)

An Internal Process SOP is a crucial tool for businesses of all sizes. It provides a set of guidelines and steps to follow for specific tasks or processes within an organization. A well-documented SOP ensures that team members know the procedures and can complete tasks efficiently and effectively. This article will discuss the essential elements of creating an effective internal process…

[furiousgoldfish]

One of the issues you run into when you're not allowed to express anger as a child, is that you're no longer able to get angry. When you're in a situation that should evoke rage, you instead feel fear, anxiety, panic, or grief, emotional hurt and helplessness. You end up operating a body that cannot feel or express anger. The only times you do feel angry is when you're directing it at yourself, it comes as a form of self hatred, and desire to cause pain and injury to yourself. Because this is the only way you would have been allowed to be angry, only way it was safe, to direct it at yourself, same as everyone else is doing constantly, teaching you that it's normal and expected.

Growing up like this means that all of the anger from your childhood keeps getting stored into your body instead of externalized, and you still cannot get angry when the situation demands it. Instead, when you're being disrespected and injustice is served in your face, you can either feel helpless and lost, or the frustration you feel irritates you so much you cannot stand it. Your body is not used to feeling anger and doesn't know how to process it. Instead it feels like you're going to explode, restless, endlessly irritated and at a complete loss on how to handle it. Because you never learned how to handle anger, except to take it out on yourself, and you might be driven to just keep doing that, forever.

Taking a stand for yourself and confronting whoever deserved your anger might still feel terrifying and all of the insane things that happened to you as a result of childhood anger might get triggered. You might feel too frightened to confront them because you can imagine all sorts of ways it could come back to hurt you - this person could try to get you fired, for example. They might smear campaign you and get you evicted, they could threaten you with something or blackmail you, they could destroy something of yours, spread rumors, hold a grudge and do thousand times worse to you. Those are thoughts evoked by memories of childhood, where abusive parents threatened and did any or all of these things, including torture, in order to keep you from expressing anger.

However this person is hurting you right now, unprovoked, and getting no resistance. From that, they're learning that they can keep doing it, with zero consequences, because you've already been broken and cannot fight back. That is a dangerous situation to be in too, even if it is impossible to predict whether this person is insane like your parents and will try to get revenge for any bit of resistance for their abuse.

I had situations where I would be pushed over the edge and allowed my anger to come out at someone - and people would sometimes complain about it, but they would usually back off, and I would regain my peace of mind because I created a consequence for disturbing it. Anger, however, doesn't feel good. My body is not used to it so it makes me incredibly tense, stressed, frustrated and upset, and it doesn't go away for several days, even weeks sometimes. Because scratching the surface of it evokes the repressed childhood anger which is almost unbearable with how giant it is.

Human body can learn to process anger, it can feel better, more powerful and more in control because of it. It can protect you without inflicting damage to others. It doesn't make you anything like your abusers, who let their anger out at someone who wasn't their equal, had no way to fight back, and did not deserve any of it. Your anger creates boundaries that keep you safe, it doesn't exist to torture others for existing.

It's easy to fall back into the place where you don't want to be angry, and try to be accommodating and allowing of injustice, just so you don't have to feel frustrated and afraid. I often fall back on it too, just wanting to live and have peace. But life around other people often doesn't allow it, and sometimes anger is necessary to send a message of what boundaries will not be crossed without a consequence. Anger is not a bad feeling, it is an act of self love. It comes out to let you know that you've been treated unfairly and it's there because it's telling you that you matter. That treating you unfairly is something to get mad about.

[comradekatara]

sokka hates the fire nation but nonetheless subscribes to their logic through internalizing his own dehumanization, albeit in the name of sacrificing what is necessary to resist imperialism. on the other hand, aang refuses to sacrifice his humanity, which is intrinsically tied to the culture that was deemed deserving of extermination, and by recognizing the fullness of his personhood and his intrinsic right to exist, he defeats the tenets of imperialism on an ideological battleground. that is why it is so crucial that aang’s influence over sokka, as an air nomad, and as someone who did not grow up under the looming shadow of colonialism and genocide, is what helps him regain the childhood he had forsworn in the name of war—his laughter, his joy, and his humanity.

[senseearly]

Always thinking that this is the moment that Kabru fell for Mithrun:

Kabru doesn't realize it immediately. But he knows that he feels warm, proud, when Mithrun smiles. A little perplexed, sure, but the surprise comes with the urge to mirror Mithrun, to smile. And he offers to wipe Mithrun's tears, just because it feels right.

When the Canaries leave, a part of his heart goes with them.

Kabru doesn't think always of Mithrun. He is busy these days - helping Laios with establishing the court; overseeing the construction of roads and infrastructure; mapping out monster-infested areas and dangerous locations; so on and so forth. But when Kabru does - and it's when he eats, tucks his body under the blankets to sleep, sees a sliver of bright silver hair - he thinks of Mithrun's smile. The slight curve of flat lips, the rosy cheeks, the teary eyes. The hitch in his voice as if this is his first time breathing after a long time. Kabru surprises himself by how much he wants to Mithrun again. He's only known the elf for, what, several days. How come he misses him like Kabru misses home?

Could it be that he...No, there's no way. He doesn't see elves that way elves won't look at him that way.

But then Mithrun returns, and it's as if they're back at the feast. On top of the frozen dragon carcass in the aftermath of a foiled demonic apocalypse. Just the two of them, no masks, no lies. When Mithrun steps out of the boat and onto the shore, Kabru feels like not a minute had passed since that moment. The seagulls cry, the wind howls, the sales flutter, like a pair of a skylark's wings on spring, and then Kabru sees it --

"Kabru." Mithrun says, smiling. And Kabru realizes, then and there, that he's fallen in love with him.

[fulcrvm]

I am thinking thoughts about airports and flying again. And Dreamling, of course.

So. Human AU. History professor Hob has to fly around a lot for work, perhaps for conferences or smth of the sort so it's always to a small handful of the same nearby cities. He's pretty neutral on the idea of flying in general, though he wishes it was a bit more environmentally friendly, but Hob is a sucker for a nice airport and especially a nice airport lounge during layovers or before boarding.

Hob has begun to frequent a small local airline (White Horse Air, the logo is a coat of arms with a little pegasus, wyvern, and hippogriff on it, haha) when traveling because he likes their service (they've never lost his bags, not even once!) and their flights are never fully booked, which makes them quieter and easier for hob's chronic pains. He always picks seats with no one next to him so he can sprawl out and so it's easier on his knees.

Until, one day, he boards the little plane and there's someone in the seat next to his. Hob's sure that when he booked his seat, the other one was empty. Oh well, whatever, Hob's not going to bother the other man already sitting there for one flight— he'll just have to be a little more mindful booking next time. Hob shuffles into the seat, and notices that the stranger sat beside him is reading Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur! Hob gets excited because! That's a William Caxton publication! And Hob has so much to say about Caxton! He turns to the stranger to strike up conversation about it and... is immediately lost at how pretty the stranger is. Handsome, gorgeous, yes of course, but pretty, with the shell pink lips and focused blue eyes and slight frown at the book in his hands. Hob picks up his metaphorical jaw off the metaphorical ground and strikes up conversation with the stranger. Though the other man starts off apprehensive, somehow the two hours of flying fly by and the two of them end up talking about all sorts of art, history, and everything in between. Hob learns that the stranger works in publishing, thus his interest in Caxton.

Their flight lands, and the two of them disembark at the gate, still attempting to continue their conversation while Hob tries to wrangle his carry-on bags. (The Stranger only has a small laptop bag on one shoulder and a suit jacket folded over his other arm with him.) Then Hob has to check the time and begrudgingly says that he should probably head towards his next gate soon— this is just a layover after all. The Stranger looks ever so slightly disappointed and admits that this is his actual destination and he needs to meet his sister soon. They part ways, and Hob tries to dwell on the strange warmth in his chest. He thinks about the Stranger for his entire work trip afterwards.

This, somehow, happens a couple times. Turns out they both frequent White Horse Air, and though they're never in booked seats next to each other again, the flights are always empty enough that they can shift to sit next to each other once the plane's in the air. They chat the flight away, and then part ways once they disembark, with the Stranger headed to the baggage claim and Hob to his next flight. One time, the Stranger even requests the hostess to bring out a special bottle of Chateau Lafitte 1828 just for the two of them to share. Hob's in awe. He really enjoys their conversations, it's nice to be able to talk about his interests in a non-academia environment. The Stranger always has the most intriguing and eye-opening perspectives on everything, too. It doesn't really help that Hob thinks... maybe he's developing a tiny, teeny, really inconsequential really crush on his Stranger. He's not in grade school anymore, how does he feel like this about someone he doesn't even know the name of yet!

This all comes to a head when Hob mentions to the Stranger that his layover is a bit longer than it usually is, and if the Stranger is in no rush, they can continue their conversation in one of the airport's lounges. White Horse Air is a bit too small an airline to have their own lounge, but Hob's collected enough miles to get into one of the other airline lounges and is fully willing to pay to get in one if it means more time with his Stranger.

The Stranger is extremely enthusiastic about the idea— which shows up physically as a subtle, coy upturning at the corner of his mouth and a little sparkle in his eye. (Hob feels proud that he can read this reaction so well.) He's so enthusiastic, in fact, that the Stranger offers to get them both into a first-class lounge. Hob doesn't even pretend to hesitate to say yes.

Let's just say they get to the lounge, split some cheese and wine, and the proceed to get even more enthusiastic with each other in a private room. Hob's lucky he brought a change of clothes in his carry-on. (Maybe Hob's not so lucky and can't sit comfortably during his next three-hour flight.)

Hob gets a bit emotional when he has to leave for his next flight (already missing being able to hold his Stranger's face so gently, being able to card his fingers through his soft, smokey hair) and gets his guts together to ask if the Stranger wants to exchange phone numbers or something, so they can be in contact more regularly. Perhaps even, meet on purpose maybe? The Stranger smiles and kisses him lightly on the cheek when he slips a business card into Hob's hand.

Hob's so caught up in it all that he doesn't check the business card until he's fully boarded and sat on his next flight. And he gawks.

Morpheus Aion The Dreaming Publishing House

As in, one of White Horse Air's biggest shareholders? Aion, as in, probably the sibling of Teleute Aion? As in, Teleute Aion, the CEO of White Horse Air?! Hob almost passes out.

In the end, Morpheus and Hob laugh it out. Morpheus promises he never abused his sibling privileges to invade Hob's privacy, but used the sibling perks to frequent White Horse Air flights a little more than he even needed to just for the chance to see Hob again. They're both happy to not need to keep flying just for that chance anymore, haha. Idiots in love! Turns out, while Teleute lives where Hob keeps having his layovers, Morpheus and Hob actually live just a few hours driving from each other from their shared initial departure location. It all works out perfectly, and Morpheus self-restraint from inviting Hob to move in (so they don't have to keep travelling to see each other, no matter how small) lasts not even a year after they officially start dating. Hob doesn't even pretend to hesitate to say yes :)

(Years down the line, much after they're married, Hob finally has enough miles to get them back into those first-class lounges to have more fun. It's all very lovely.)

[birchlogz]

[probablyhuntersmom]

If Hunter found himself in the kind of dream which Eda had

(These aren't leaks, they're a combo of tracing over screenshots and airbrushing :3)

[faytelumos]

Rewrite My Line

Tagged for this one by @tildeathiwillwrite, and—

Oh gosh, it's an internal thought line! XD Before even touching this I can tell you it's going to be so much longer than the original!

---

my line:

He wandered about the city aimlessly, eventually stopping at one of the fountains and resting at a nearby bench. He stared at the splashing water almost desperately, trying to turn his mind to less depressing thoughts. It didn’t work.

rewritten as:

He wandered. He didn't know where he was going, where he wanted to be. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as it wasn't here.

Eventually, he stopped at a fountain square. The air was cold where it blew off the mumbling stone. One of many in the park, the fountain muttered and grumbled, the water cycling endlessly in an illusion of permanence. He sat down on a bench to watch it, to distract his stupid mind from its stupid, depressing thoughts. Maybe he could go into a trance. Maybe he could find some kind of profound wisdom in the miracle of gravity made trivial by modern technology. Maybe he could just dunk his head in the basin and count all of the coins tossed in despite the signage, drowning the world out until he had to come up for air, choking and coughing.

He sighed and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.

---

Gently as ever tagging @afoolandathief, @amethystpath-writes, @annakayy, @gummybugg, @kaatiba, @those-damn-snippets, @serenanymph, @surplus-of-sarcasm, @written-in-starlight, and anyone else who wants to play along!

Your line today is:

The leader stopped, and we each turned to take our places. There were moss-covered boards for us to kneel on, to save our knees from the hard, rocky ground. I knelt down, and when the leader motioned for us to get low, I leaned forward, placing my hands on the wet, gravelly ground, and rested my forehead on my fingers.

[again, I'm sorry if this is kinda long. @_@ You can cut pieces out, it's okay.]

@thelazywitchphotographer :D

[brekkers-wife]

Adam telling gay jokes to Ronan is one of my favorite things in the series.

The Raven Boys (chp. 22)

Blue Lily, Lily Blue (chp. 29)

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[wistfulwatcher]

7.04 Painless | 5.02 Haunted

[asimplearchivist]

Do y’all ever think about what was going through Grovyle’s mind at the Passage of Time when he found out about the hero being his partner?🙂I do.

(Click for better quality! And please for the love of God notice the reflection in his eye that I spent far too much time on getting just right😭)

Time lapse below the cut:

[sophiethewitch1]

gang i really just want to get to the part where the boys are hopelessly in love with reader to the point its genuinely pathetic

[alwaysbewoke]

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

hot take I think the sexes would be much happier if we just accepted each other as mysteries instead of constantly shaming one for not being more like the other.

like, personally, in my own life, the whole idea of romance & marriage became way more exciting and attractive when I ditched the notion that men are just bigger stronger women, or women are just smaller prettier men.

like. not only is it okay that men are from mars and women are from venus, it's good.

do I know what's going on in my guy friend's head? I used to think I did, but it turns out I don't. Turns out I've never known what was going through the heads of any of the men in my life. And you know what? what a relief. he can do or say things that don't make sense to me, and they don't have to make sense to me. I know he's a smart, good-hearted guy; I can safely assume he had a reason for saying or doing that thing. And if I listen to him over time, I may even start to understand what that reason was. But I don't have to. What I can recognize instead is that each sex has a wisdom in their way of thinking and doing which befits given situations. More often than not, a situation requires both.

But you simply can't get both from one person, and you shouldn't demand it. And what a relief knowing my guy friend doesn't expect guy thoughts and behavior from me.

[needlebeetles]

the funniest thing about Kipperlilly Copperkettle’s grudge is that she chose Riz specifically to get mad at. My sister in Cassandra he is in a party with Fabian Aramais Seacaster, the Adaine “heir to Oracular power in freshman year” and Kristen “chosen one” Applebees. They’ve arguably got an unfair advantage as a party but Riz Gukgak certainly didn’t up until the end of sophomore year.