#daily poem or at least frequent poem

[ihaveonlymydreams]

October 10

by Wendell Berry

Now constantly there is the sound,

quieter than rain,

of the leaves falling.

Under their loosening bright

gold, the sycamore limbs

bleach whiter.

Now the only flowers

are beeweed and aster, spray

of their white and lavender

over the brown leaves.

The calling of a crow sounds

loud—a landmark—now

that the life of summer falls

silent, and the nights grow.

[luimagines]

I dare you to do one with your favorite trope to write (unless you've already done it)

Oh my goodness, this might be longer that usual. XD

And I really had to think about what I wanted to write. I think I'll make this a one-shot. (unless you guys want more anyway) Prepare for this to be as self indulgent as hell. :D

And I'll make it Time while I'm at it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

This was the third time this week that you found something like this. You didn't know who was doing this.

A basket, filled to the brim with goodies and trinkets alike, sat properly outside of your window sill. It would be charming if you weren't on the third floor. Someone was climbing up to your balcony and leaving the baskets for you to find.

It was creepy- to a degree. There was never anything malicious about it though. The baskets typically held a flower, a warm meal (or groceries) and some little thing for you to put around your apartment.

You see, you moved to the Kingdom of Kokiri with nothing but a backpack and small child's wagon. Your apartment wasn't even on a nicer side of town. But it hard to be worried about robbers when you're home is bare and empty.

Slowly, that's been changing though. The baskets always had a poem attached, but no name. You secret admirer would give little things from time to time. The baskets are getting more frequent too.

What used to be a small monthly thing, turned weekly then bi weekly- and you're beginning to suspect that they're turning into a daily thing.

Part of you worries that whoever this is, is spending too much on you.

But seeing that the last basket had a new set of dining wear with plates and cups and a some nice utensils to match- you're not inclined to have them stop anytime soon when they're improve your very living conditions as it is. Even if you feel a little guilty.

That being said, this basket had a warm meal already prepared, still steaming in the glass tupperware. There was a small bouquet of roses near the top and a small little box that you opened to see a single slice of chocolate cake.

The card was attached on the inside but it lacked the typical poem. It simple read: "Rest well, Love. You've worked hard today. Dinner's on me. I just want to see you smile in the morning."

You smiles and tucked the card back into its place, bringing the basket back into your apartment.

You have to figure out who this secret admirer of yours is. It has to be someone with access to your floor but it can't be a neighbor. Right? You're on the corner so it can't be anyone to your left. But maybe your neighbor to the right? That's a creepy thought. You hardy ever see him and you don't think he showers throughout the week.

It can't be him. Or at least you're going to deny it.

Maybe it's someone from above? That's more likely. There is this cute guy that you know lives on the floor above you, but you don't know which apartment. It wouldn't be hard to drop the basket secretively onto your balcony from above if that was the case.

The thought rotates in your head as you eat the food. It's delicious. Decadent, even.

Gratitude fills your heart and soul. you have to return the favor somehow after everything this person has provided for you. But how?

You head to bed with a smile on your face and a full stomach. You'll have to start small but you can think of something.

The next morning you head to the castle and walk straight to the throne room.

It was a deal that the king had proposed personally to you. You get to work concern free in his kingdom but you have to report to him every other Tuesday. Seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you didn't think it wise to refuse.

You've grown somewhat close, but with his power and status by his side, you couldn't help but slightly intimidated by him even now.

The king- like most Royals of Kingdoms of Hyrule- was a dragon. Sure, he could take the form of a typical man, but he stayed in his half form more often than not. His age and strength add to his credentials. As the current senior amongst dragons, all you've gathered is that he's lived longer than he appears. The older the dragon, the stronger they are.

King Link is a force to be reckoned with.

However, he's kind and patient with you. He's not all that bad.

You nod and grin at the Captain, who's affectionately called Warrior. Another dragon hidden among the people. You don't know his story, but he's a hard working fellow. He also came to the king in a time of need, looking for asylum and has been working under his employ ever since. He is the king's right hand man.

Warrior smiles back and salutes you softly as you enter. You'll never understand why you've more or less been given free reign of the castle, but with his approval, you feel better to head on in.

You meet the king and curtsy clumsily, still feeling rushed. He's asked you call him Time and he stands from the throne. His face is kind, amused even. A chuckle tumbles out of him as he walks toward you, his marble like tail swinging behind him. "I thought we were passed the formalities, my dear."

You clear your throat. "Were we? I don't recall."

He laughs again. "Come. We have much to discuss."

You nod and follow. He leads you to the back room with a gentle touch the small of your back. It's a familiar routine that you've grown comfortable with.

There's a small rounded table with a pale blue laced table cloth. There's a delicate tea set and it's covered to the brim with snacks and treats alike. You think you see a few of your favorites and your eyes light up at the sight.

King Time notices and he smiles, pleased. "Sit."

You nod and take your usual spot. Time sits across from you and serves you the pieces that you eyes earlier. You almost feel bad. You're still full from the night before.

Time notices. "Something wrong, dear?"

"No." You shake your head, afraid of insulting him. "Someone gave me dinner last night and I'm still a bit full from it."

Time seemed to be shocked by the tidbit. "Really?... Was it good?"

"It was delicious!" You can't help but gush. "I would normally cook for myself but they send food from time to time and it was still warm so I couldn't resist."

His smile turns a little tight. "Is that so? I'm glad that you were fed adequately then.... May I ask who?"

You falter, the smile on your face turning more soft and shy. "Um... I think it was my neighbor..."

"...You don't know who it is?"

You blush and look down onto the table, playing with the treats on your plate. "I know that I should be more cautious. But they've only ever left it on my balcony... It's a secret admirer so to speak. They've given me trinkets and flowers and food. It seems as if they've slowly been furnishing my house for me. I don't know... I've been trying to think about who it may be, but I'm coming up short. Regardless, enough about my lack of love life-"

Time abruptly puts his hand under the table but you catch the reason why before he can hide it.

He's bent the fork in half with his hand, seemingly without realizing it. He smiles brightly, as if nothing happened and the thought gets put on the back burner for now. "Right... Well, you can always ask for my assistance, Darling."

You shake your head with a small smile. "Thank you, but I'm here to report my work. Let's get to business then."

Time clenches his jaw slightly but nods in agreement. "Right. I believe last time you mentioned that you were following a trail of some suspicious individuals on the property of the farm lands for relief efforts. Did that bloom into anything substantial?"

You pull out a manila folder with a smirk and hand it to the king. "Did it ever."

The time passes before you know it. Little by little, as you give your report, if drifts away and you're talking about your lives as much as you can before you leave.

Warrior comes in, informing Time of another meeting has to attend. He looks apologetic.

The king winces but you're quick to stand up, mid panic. "I'm sorry. I've overstayed my welcome."

"Impossible." Time blurts, standing abruptly as well. He reach out as if to stop you and moves around the table as if to block your path. His tail curls around your ankle, stopping your in your tracks. It's gentle but firm. Even if his grip is painless, you can already tell that you wouldn't be able to escape on your own.

You freeze and after a beat he lets you go. Time gulps and stands, seemingly more aware of what he was doing. His grip falls away and he takes a step back. "R-right... I won't keep you from your work much longer then."

You can't help but blush. He's always been fine with putting a hand on your shoulder or your back... but the tail is one of the most sensitive parts of a dragon. And he just grabbed you with it. For some reason, you find yourself blushing.

You nod dumbly, as if your schedule is jammed packed like his. Your heart is pounding. You follow Warrior out of the room as he leads you back to the main gate of the castle.

"Sorry." Warrior says quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Nonono-" You're still shaken by the phantom feelings of the scales around you. Even if it was just a brush, there was a power there. You don't know why you're so out of whack suddenly. The act was more intimate than you were able to admit. "If you didn't say anything, I would have kept going. Honestly, I swear he's just humoring most of the time."

"This is the only time we get him to actually take a break." Warrior tells you. "He'd work himself t the bone if it weren't for you. It's not like he can't afford it. He's two years ahead of his work. By all means, keep him there longer."

You flush and look away, walking out of the gate. "Oh please, he'll get sick of me before we'd know it."

Warrior is quick to bite his tongue, biting back the instant retort that no doubt sat on his tongue. He takes a breath and shakes his head.

"...He likes you." Warrior looks pained. Like there's something there that he wants to say but can't. You don't see it. "Would you like me to walk you home? If I recall you live far enough away-"

"Not enough to cause concern, Captain." You smile and pat his shoulder. "But thank you."

"His Majesty wouldn't like it if anything happened to you." Warrior tries to push it a little bit.

You shake you head. "And take more of your time away? You work just as hard, if not harder, than the entirety of the castle staff. I think only the King works harder than you."

He presses his lips into a thin line. His own scales poke from under his skin. Something is riling him up but you don't know what. You've never seen his dragon form or even his half. He seems to hide it more often than not. You would never know he was a dragon if the King hadn't said anything earlier.

Warrior sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Very well... Just... be safe, yeah? I don't think the goddesses themselves would be able to calm the king should things go wrong."

"Like what?" You snort. "I end up in the hospital? I'll be fine. No worries."

You wink for good measure and head home, happy, fulfilled and ready to take on the rest of the week.

You miss the next three visits.

Part 2

[justanothersquidblog]

Hiii I come with a question about Deep Cut lore: how much info is there on the 3 clans? At least in terms of how much they like each other and how their hierarchies work.

I'm trying to write a Deep Cut fan kid (kinda? Idk if itd still count as a fan kid) oc and I want to figure out how the clans would react to them sort of adopting a kid on the fly without any approval from anyone else.

Hmmm okay lemme try and gather my lore okay so

From the start; we know that the Deep Cut Clans worked together during what was presumably the Great Flood that started the Great Turf War.

"Long ago, our splatted lands were almost washed away by a great flood. All was presumed lost...until three lights appeared and united to consume the disaster. Thankful for their salvation, the townsfolk threw a festival with three portable shrines as a tribute."

This information was in a sunken scroll. The three lights are the clans, and judging from this, the Clans are held in high regard by the public of the Splatlands.

Other than this, we have sunken scrolls featuring a sorta haiku-esc poem thing from the Hohojiro clan, techniques written down from the Onaga, and a sophisticated analysis of the Manta clan's daily habits.

This doesn't Really tell us much about how their clans work but- I see it as the Onaga's finding importance in writing down what they do and passing it on, and the Manta's acting maybe a little bit aristocratic judging by the baroque-style painting?

As for the clan's hierarchies, they seem kinda just chill now?

BM: “Ay! Ay. Ay! (Yeah! I watched it recently with Big Dad. It holds up!)”

Big Man has movie nights with his dad-

S: “There's no feeling like pumping pedals with all your might at Humpback Pump Track...”

BM: “Ay? (Didn't your parents say that riding was too dangerous when you were a kid?)”

And Deep Cut are familiar enough with Shiver's family to hear a story/anecdote their parents would say-

However, the closeness of the clans and the people within it can be judged the most with these line;

Interviewer: “I know you all have a lot of history together. Didn’t your families get together frequently when you were growing up? Have you all been friends since childhood?”

Big Man: “Ay. Ay? Ay. (I wouldn’t say friends. Friendly? We knew each other. We knew OF each other.)”

Shiver: “It’s true. We sort of just said “hi” in passing.”

Frye: “I don’t know about y’all, but I was WAY too busy with dance lessons and eel training and stuff like that to have, like, real friends.”

Business and lots of work with training and clan practices, causing real connection between the clan members to be a bit hard? So while they seem quite close after generations upon generations of taking care of the Splatlands and very traditional with old values, they're still probably quite independent of each other and a lot more relaxed in terms of operation.

I dunno man.

[muffinsin]

Omg that last one with the dimis falling asleep! It’s SO CUTE!😭 I’ve binge read some of your stories already and I love them!

also, I notice that many in the fandoms make the daughters be able to purr, including you. Could you say more on that? Like how it’s triggered? And (I hope this doesn’t sound weird) cat traits they maybe have? Thank you for your works, I love them!🥰

Yess!🙌 though I hc that the noise is mostly just their flies vibrating excitedly, I use the word “purr” :))

Let’s get into it! ;)

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Bela

She can purr the loudest, although only from her favorite people

You, and Alcina. A simple head pat and some praise is enough to have her purr already

Aside from this, she often stars purring at affection. Verbal as well as physical

Praise will often have her purr quietly, although when you start touching her these purrs will increase in volume

The easiest way of making her purr is to stroke her hair or massage her shoulders

She loves having your hands on her, and any sort of affection will have her purr quietly, really

Massaging her, kisses, praise, bathing together, cuddling

Aside from this trait, Bela is oddly good at squeezing herself into the tightest of spaces

She says it’s comfortable, and safe. You’d just think it looks claustrophobic

This way she has scared her family one or two times (or a lot more! XP) in the past

Cassandra

She dislikes these purrs. She doesn’t want to be considered soft or even worse yet: adorable!

Still, she just can’t help it when you cuddle and kiss her or play with her hair

She has relatively quiet purrs that one can barely hear- a human, anyway

You’d have to be very close to hear her, although you’re able to feel her flies vibrate a little in their excitement

As for inhuman creatures such as her sisters…they will never cease to stop teasing Cassandra when she purrs, especially Daniela. It’s such an odd sound coming from the middle sister

Cassandra purrs a lot in private with you, during cuddles

In bed, she likes to sleep on top of you or cuddled against you

One could say these purrs are somewhat of a daily lullaby

Aside from this, Cassandra has another cat-like trait;

She enjoys sharpening her nails on wood and such! It’s just such a good material!

She enjoys her natural weapons- her sharp nails and teeth, both being rather similar to claws and fangs, really

Due to this, Cassandra must keep them sharp. It’s no surprise to see her chew on a stick or randomly claw up a tree

Daniela

She purrs the easiest!

Daniela purrs nearly 24/7 with you, she just can’t help it!

She’s a little ball of energy at most times, and very clingy

This means, a lot of personal touch. In turn, she purrs

Whether it is from gifts and words, poems and romance, hand holding and cuddling, kissing or even just hugging, Daniela purrs

Often these purrs are accompanied by a bright pink blush, or at the very least a large smile

Though, you aren’t the only to trigger her purrs

When being cuddled by her sisters or patted by her mother, she purrs too, just not as loud and frequent as you

Lastly, unlike her sisters, Daniela doesn’t mind her own purrs. Unlike Bela, who grows shy upon purring, and Cassandra, who does her best to hide them entirely, Daniela embraces them

They’re just another way for her to show her appreciation for the people she likes!

Another cat-like trait she possesses are the infamous zoomies

It’s not uncommon for her to get random bursts of energy, in which she zooms off to annoy one of her sisters or find you, perhaps even play in the dungeons or hunt some animal or human she encounters

Afterwards, she normally plops down in your lap for some head scratches and kisses

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

a couple of months ago, in choir, we started learning pieces for the anzac concert. I remember looking at one of the pieces, "we will remember them", and thinking, my brother will be destroyed by this if I kill myself before then (it's a setting of the famous war poem). but I didn't think I had an option. I was utterly certain that by the time the concert rolled around, I would be weeks dead. I didn't think I could get there.

that concert was today. as we waited to sing that specific piece, I thought of my certainty months ago, and I realised, I've barely felt suicidal for weeks. sure, it comes up sometimes, but not nearly as frequently as it used to. not daily. and today I hit twelve days without self harming. I thought about suicide today - and I decided I did not want it. not now. I still can't say, and maybe I never will be able to, not ever, but this is enough for now.

I didn't believe people when they said life gets better. but somehow it does. for a long while there I never said 'see you' to people when leaving, because I wasn't sure I would see them again this side of the kingdom. I've started saying it again. one of my brothers came to watch our performance today, and when we left we said goodbye and I won't see him for at least two weeks. but I said 'see you later' all the same.

if you're where I was a couple of months ago and not believing that life gets better, I'm here to say: I got help a few months ago, was extremely close to a psych ward (like 'if it gets any worse at all you are to go to emergency immediately') and I am convinced I would have been dead within the week if I hadn't reached out for help. not much changed: except that I got anxiety medication, which helped to start me stopping regular self harm. I think that medication was enough to start me on the positive trend, but whatever it was: I staunchly believed it couldn't get better, and it has despite me.

anyway, the concert was good. it was fun. glad I'm round for it.

[itsmeoculi]

Poe dating hcs! SMUT AND FLUFF

Pairing(s):Poe x gn!reader

Tw: Smut hcs, nsfw content will be mentioned

Synopsis:None needed! Just dating Poe hcs

Let’s get a move on then!

Floof

-DEFINITELY LEAVES NOTES AROUND THE HOUSE!! He’s a writer for goodness sake, his notes are rlly cute. It’s like him telling you when he’s coming back home, if he’s making any additional stops, and where he mainly is headed for.

-Karl has had to at least sneak 1, if not, 2 thirsty love poems that Poe writes about you, when he’s alone. Ofc Poe is very shy AND WOULD PROBABLY DIE if you saw what he wrote. Karl being a smart as showed you by sneaking the papers. Poe could barely look at you in the eyes (as if they’re even visible) for like 2 weeks. Poor introvert :(

-Definitely a cuddle bug, a quite one tho. He doesn’t really ask for cuddles, he slides into them naturally, yk? like one night y’all are gonna sleep at a late hour, and he nudges your shoulder and sneaks his head under your arm. You guys then end up holding each other after

-LITTLE SPOON LITTLE SPOON LITTLE SPOOOOOOON!!!!!!!!

-Spoils you, but like unintentionally. Like man is so rich that $2,000 seems like a miracle to you, but to him? That’s a measly nickel, if not a cent to this guy 😦

-He would casually buy you new expensive stuff, like on a daily basis. No not “Here, darling it’s for Christmas.” And he gives you a new car (which this situation is still completely possible) but like you’ll see $20,000 purses on nightstands, DAILY, next to notes he leaves and the note would say “Just a small gift, love you always.” LIKE GODDAMNNNNN.

-you prob tell him at some point not to spend so much money on you, he apologizes (EVEN THOUGH HE DONT NEED TOOOO POOR BBY :((( ) BUT STILL KEEPS BUYING YOU STUFF just less frequently, cause he wants to listen to you. BUT HOW COULD HE NOT SPOIL YOU?

-loves rainy days because he would write stories, and ask for feedback from you, even if ur not a pro writer he just wants to hear your voice rlly (lil simp frfr)

-you babysit Karl when he’s REALLY BUSYYYY he trusts you <33

-writes letters sometimes. You two have phones and stuff, but he sometimes likes the feeling of paper and ink all dedicated to you. So he writes traditional letters instead of texts sometimes (he mainly does this for anniversaries or any special events)

-When y’all are about to have.. spichyyyy time, YOU GUYS HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE TO make sure that Karl doesn’t walk in. So y’all lock everything and make sure that Karl is in a whole separate FAR AWAY room from where y’all are, cause I have to say it, POE IS A LOUD MOANER

That brings us to smut hcs!

-He’s an automatic sub/bottom

-whimpers a lot, especially if you’re edging him FOR SOME REASON HE LOVES IT THOUGH

-He loves being at your mercy, he wants you to use him.

-Don’t deny that this man would be into wearing collars. HE WILL LITERALLY BUY ONE THAT SAYS “(Name’s)” (yk like you own him) ofc out of the bedroom you feel bad, but he likes being yours so uh.. yeah!

-give this guy a blowjob HE’LL DIEEE, of arousal of course.~~

-I’m scared but this guy has some junk, bc you know that all tall, shy, introverted men in these kinds of shows have BIG THONG-ALONG so he be packin’

-Loves hair tugging, but be gentle, he’s sensitive <33

-being sensitive, he’s also easy to arouse and satisfy.

-he’s a bit of a k!nky btch. Not as k!nky as Dazai tho but that’s a whole different can of worms.

-aftercare game isn’t bad. He pampers you with affection.

APOLOGIES IF THE SMUT SECTION WAS CRINGYY (I’m not used to writing stuff like that but I hope you at least enjoy) 😭

[handeaux]

In Cincinnati, Everybody Who Was Anybody Got The Scoop At Grandpa Hawley’s

The year before he assassinated President Abraham Lincoln, the actor John Wilkes Booth was in Cincinnati, performing at Wood’s Theater in Shakespeare’s “Merchant of Venice” and “The Taming of the Shrew.” Throughout the run, Booth was a frequent visitor to Grandpa Hawley’s newsstand, just two blocks south at Vine and Fourth. Years later, Hawley told the Cincinnati Post about Booth’s visits [28 April 1903]:

“He was in my store while here and I remember a conversation with him. I do not remember what we talked about in particular, but there was nothing to indicate that he had the least thought of perpetrating the dark crime with which his name is stained.”

By coincidence, James R. “Grandpa” Hawley also had a connection to Lincoln. Hawley first opened his business on Tuesday, 12 February 1861, and watched from the shop door as President-Elect Lincoln, on his way to Washington, was paraded down Vine Street to the Burnet House. Throughout the Civil War, Grandpa Hawley was the place to go for news of the conflict. Hawley told the Times-Star [10 January 1891]:

“That was in the war time, you know, and then the illustrated periodicals monopolized the sale, for in them were pictures of the generals and battles and the printed material dealt with the doings of the army.”

In fact, Hawley’s patrons often included those very generals themselves, picking up the latest weekly to read what was being said about the war. Generals Ulysses Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman famously mapped out the strategy to ensure a Confederate defeat in Parlor A of the Burnet House and gathered a lot of their information from Grandpa Hawley’s newsstand. He told the Post:

“I do not believe I ever saw them in uniform. Grant was not very talkative, but Sherman frequently started a conversation.”

Another regular military visitor to Hawley’s was Philip Henry Sheridan, whose triumph at the Battle of Cedar Creek was memorialized in Thomas Buchanan Read’s poem, “Sheridan’s Ride.” That poem was required reading for generations of American school children and the author, a Cincinnati resident, was also a frequent customer of Grandpa Hawley’s. It is not recorded whether poet and subject ever met at the Vine Street newsstand, but they might well have.

Vice President Andrew Johnson spent so much time at Hawley’s that the news vendor took to calling him “Andy.”

In addition to generals, politicians and poets, Grandpa Hawley’s shop was also a gathering place for the actors who trod the boards at Cincinnati’s theaters throughout the Nineteenth Century. Edwin Forrest was among the first Americans to gain distinction as a Shakespearian star. He frequently performed in Cincinnati and always stopped by to see Hawley, who recalled:

“In my mind I can see him now with his tragedy stride and hear his deep rumbling voice.”

In almost every interview he gave, Hawley mentioned Adelaide Neilson, whose fame as an actress almost equaled her fame as a great beauty.

“Neilson, the actress, has been here many times, and always used to pat the little newsboys on the head and give them an encouraging word.”

Hawley himself was something of a Cincinnati celebrity, mostly because of his enormous beard, which ran from his chin almost to his belt buckle. Most of the Cincinnati papers remarked about the “biblical” dimensions of his whiskers, rivaled only by those of Vine Street saloonist Andy Gilligan.

Many folks stopped by just to chat with Hawley, who was an especially entertaining raconteur, but most came for the news. In those pre-electric days, when “the media” meant print publications, Grandpa Hawley moved a lot of paper. He told the Times-Star that New York daily newspapers sold the most in his shop, followed by dailies from Chicago, St. Louis and Louisville. Among the weeklies, Harper’s and Leslie’s ran neck-and-neck, followed by the London Illustrated News. Some readers were quite dedicated to their favorite publication:

“One lady used to walk down from Walnut Hills every week to get the New York Ledger, because it would not be delivered to her until the morning following its arrival here. One day a Walnut Hills man who was a regular customer of mine asked me if I knew why he always took two copies of the New York Ledger. I told him I supposed he got one for a neighbor, but he said it was because he had two daughters and they were always squabbling about which should read it first, until, to keep peace in the family, he decided to give both a chance.”

Those were the days when multiple magazines appealed to every specialized interest. Hawley sold dozens of sports magazines, humor magazines, fashion magazines, science magazines and literary journals of contemporary thought like Atlantic Monthly and the North American Review – both of which are still published today. He carried most of the major periodicals published in German and French.

After 40 years in business, Grandpa Hawley found himself evicted from his landmark shop to make way for the construction of the Ingalls Building, the first reinforced concrete skyscraper in the world. Railroad magnate Melville E. Ingalls spent so much effort convincing city officials to allow him to build his revolutionary building that he gave little thought to the businesses he displaced.

Grandpa Hawley ended up relocating to the nearby Emery Arcade on the other side of Vine, but years of generosity caught up with him and bankruptcy was a real possibility. According to the Post:

“Everybody’s word goes with ‘Grandpa’ Hawley and were his customers so disposed they could carry away in overcoat pockets or under their arms several times as much as they paid for.”

At this dark moment, Hawley’s theatrical friends, accumulated over the decades, sprang into action and staged a benefit extravaganza for him at the Grand Opera House on 1 May 1903, raising more than $650 and saving the old man’s finances. It was a short-lived victory. Not quite a year later, Grandpa Hawley was dead. As he was laid to rest in Covington’s Linden Grove Cemetery, the Post [20 February 1904] eulogized:

“’Grandpa’ Hawley did not have an enemy in the world. For a lifetime he jogged along in an even, quiet way. He was honest and fair. He was never too busy to clasp hands warmly and talk entertainingly. He possessed a smile that was born of the natural kindness in his soul.”

[bytedykes]

What is ORV actually about? I assumed that it was like... A modern psychological thriller with a bit of queerbait, but now I'm seeing your posts and reblogs tagged ORV that are all kinda surreal and fantasy type stuff, I feel like I saw the word isekai a couple times? So what is ORV actually?

ok i have been sitting on this ask for a few days bc i. have no idea where to even begin trying to explain what orv is about

here's a post by tumblr user ot3 that does a better job of explaining orv than i ever could. below the cut is MY attempt at an orv summary

"what is orv actually about?" this is a wonderful question. i don't know. i did nothing but read this novel for 2 weeks straight and i could not for the life of me tell you what orv is "about"

the thing about this book is that if you're reading it, it makes perfect sense. the events are linear. there is a bunch of mindfucky bullshit BUT it all happens in a relatively straightforward way. i understand orv perfectly. but at gunpoint, could i put the events in chronological order? no. pull the trigger

ok. orv is about a salaryman named kim dokja who has the most uninteresting boring life in the world. this is a lie. he does nothing but go to his job he's about to get fired from, eat convenience store kimbap, and read webnovels. he reads a specific webnovel (twsa) that has been updating daily for 13 years straight. he has been reading it since he was 15 through his entire adult life

twsa is about the apocalypse, starring protagonist yoo joonghyuk. the day kim dokja reads the last chapter and eagerly awaits the epilogue to be published the apocalypse happens. exactly like in the webnovel. now armed with a .txt file of twsa and his autism superpowers he navigates the apocalypse trying to reach his ideal ending

orv, for lack of better term, does not take itself very seriously at times. frequently, even. at least half of the major plot points are comprised of complete bullshit. every few chapters i had to put the book down and go "no fucking WAY is this actually happening" but it was! it was happening every time! its hysterical!

orv is also extremely meta. every time you think "ok it cannot possibly get more meta, this is it, this is the peak" ur wrong. u are wrong every single time until the very end of the epilogue. it can ALWAYS get more meta. orv is 100% the most meta thing i have read in my life

on top of all this, pretty much anything you can think of has happened in orv. "orv is a book about everything" while an exaggeration, this is true. it really fucking is. it has everything in it. you know that poem by shel silverstein, "everything on it"? that's what reading orv is like

it tackles many serious topics (such as: loneliness, the desperate desire to connect with other people combined with the inability to allow yourself to be loved, finding the things that push you to keep surviving) and many topics that are. not that (such as: "what if a dumpling had a face how would that work", "what if gay people were insane and not even friends", "what if a guy was so autistic his brain started eating people", "what if a monkey was actually 4 monkeys" and more such things. wouldnt that be fucked up)

orv definitely. yeah. surreal and fantasy type stuff is a very appropriate descriptor. a modern psychological thriller is... also appropriate i suppose. "a bit of queerbait" is NOT appropriate because orv is built on queerbait but not in the sense of it being baiting. in the sense of it being canon but unsaid. like its not canon. but it is. its canon and it is constant. there is an archangel that ships said queerbait she is a proud yaoi supporter. this is a real thing i am not making up

on top of that insane queerbait. there is insane polycule bait as well. like i need you to understand that while its not "canon" in the traditional sense of the word it IS real and it IS on screen and it IS as explicit as it could actually be without it actually being, you know, explicit. it literally makes me feel insane

ISEKAI. RIGHT. im not really familiar with isekai as a genre so take this paragraph with a grain of salt but orv is more of a reverse isekai? the fantasy world comes TO the "real" world. however there are in fact multiple isekais-within-the-isekai later on. multiple types of them even

anyway orv is also heavily based on the theme of stories and like. god i hope you've read ot3's post because im sure they explained it better. its a very theme-heavy piece of media where the rules of the world aren't based on logic but based on how they can further the themes. its very intricately constructed and like

it will blow your mind. god. i dont even know what im saying anymore. its good is my point it is so fucking good. orv changed me. it is a very hopeful piece of media and i am sure that rereading it will devastate me even harder than it did the first time

TLDR: orv is an insane long book about literally everything and at least half of those things are complete bullshit but are incredibly integral to the plot. somehow. it is very worth reading and will change ur life forever

[caltropspress]

RAPS + CRAFTS #22: shemar

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

Yo, I’m shemar. I rap and produce under my given name. I prefer to be referenced in all lowercase (the “bell hooks” reasoning, all love if you don’t / forget to). I released my first EP sound of summer burning the body in September 2022. Since then, I’ve dropped one album (obtuse ways to say that i love you, November 2023) and a couple EPs. My most recent release is sunscreen, fully produced by the immensely talented Child Actor. I consider that EP the end of my rookie “year” as a rapper. I’m currently working on two rap albums. One is produced by Outside House and the other produced by bloomcycle. Don’t expect them anytime soon. A lot of my producer work should be releasing this year, including an album with fox, an album with baegull, a lot of songs with money for water, and wherever else the wind takes me! I hope to loosen up some while finishing all these joints. Maybe drop raps here and there, a beat tape, whatever else. I hope to be more publicly present for a majority of the year, but nothing grand, ya know?

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

I tend to solidify my ideas at home. Lines come to me pretty frequently, but organizing those lines is a super mood based thing. There are times where I’ll draft up at least a verse a week for months, and there are times where I’m in an organization drought. I’ve been writing heavily for seven years at this point, and have moved on from the fear of “losing the magic” recently. It’s less that I don’t think I can lose it. I think, if I do “lose the magic,” then it’ll come back when it’s ready or I’ve done everything I can in this medium. It is what it is. I deeply admire those who have a consistent, disciplined writing schedule. That’s just not me at the moment.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

My process bounces between my Notes app and a notebook. When I come up with lines, they stay in my phone. I have a “Poem Thoughts” note on my phone just for this purpose. My notebook comes in once I’m ready to organize those lines into a larger idea. Once I have that solid first draft, I bounce it onto my phone. From there, I might make little edits on my phone as I memorize the verse for recording. The written word is most important to me, but I care a lot about how it feels coming off my tongue. A lot of my smaller edits are just to make the verse easier to one-take. I appreciate having my solidified ideas in two places because if something happens to one tool, I can still refer to the other. I almost lost an older verse from not following this process, so I’m very particular about it.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

I think I write in a pretty disorganized manner. My biggest rapper fear is someone I admire asking for a feature and being like, “Give me a 16,” or whatever. I can count bars; I never think about it when I’m writing though. If anything, I care more about how much time my writing takes up. I don’t really like taking up space, so my verses/songs are usually shorter to reflect that. I could never see myself having a solo song that hits four minutes, or an album that hits 40 minutes. It’s just not me at the moment.

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

It’s all in the feeling for me. Each step in my process has a moment where I can discard what doesn’t “feel right.” Sometimes when I’m in an organization drought, it might be because I’m overwhelmed by the quantity of loose lines in my “Poem Thoughts” note. So I’ll just delete the whole note and start over. The lines that are meant to be will stay with me. I practice rapping each line while I’m organizing. If anything feels wrong I just scrap it, be it an individual line or a whole verse. Earlier on into rapping, if a song got a demo that solidified, it’ll come out. Lately I’ve gotten comfortable scrapping demos, usually because I find a better beat for what I’m trying to say / how the idea needs to be presented. My favorite example of this at the moment is this song (unreleased) I have called "whomp’s fortress." The original demo was on a very different beat, a dope one still, but I’m much more comfortable with/confident in the current version. I’m very adamant that everything comes together how it’s supposed to. That keeps me from being scared about reconstructing an idea.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. When I was a kid, I wanted to write sprawling YA novels akin to Percy Jackson. Those never got past a few chapters at most, but I would envision the plots from beginning to end every single night. I started writing poetry in early high school, honestly because I wanted to be a rapper. I fucking sucked at rapping, so I thought focusing on poetry would help me become a decent rapper. I took a hella long route but I guess I was right in the end, huh?

I have many poems that I’m still proud of, and occasionally incorporate lines from them into my verses. The self-plagiarism is personal. I like the idea of treating my older self with the same reverence I give my other influences (Amiri Baraka, Henry Dumas, etc.). When I wrote poems, I was very focused on making every sentence hit. I don’t like being stripped from the full context, but if someone is gonna do it might as well make the line hard as fuck ya know? It was to the point where my poems just became bricks of text. Hearing Fred Moten’s work at a poetry festival put that idea into my head, and I just ran with it. I think that writing philosophy is still foundational to what I do now.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

After that initial draft, I spend a lot of time reflecting on my verses. I usually know what each individual line means, but I rarely grasp the personal depth of my verses until I really sit with them. I might make little changes to a verse to better emphasize certain ideas that feel urgent. I also consider my audience during editing, something I never do during earlier parts of the process. I’m not necessarily interested in being understood, but I don’t wanna be misunderstood either.

I consider unlearning a very urgent process. One major aspect of unlearning, in my opinion, entails being aware of possible violence you could be perpetuating, even in something as “small” as a word. I’m always striving to present an honest version of myself, good or bad. Simultaneously, I fucking hate those who say personal things / mistakes just for the shock value. Oftentimes shock value is just an excuse to spew reactionary bullshit. I don’t ever want my work to be reduced to that. I deeply admire artists like billy woods and Fatboi Sharif, who have really mastered shock value that isn’t regressive as fuck. All and all, when it comes to editing I try not to get in my own way.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

It’s rare that I come up with lines while listening to a beat, but I always work with a beat when I’m organizing lines. Even if the lines don’t end up on that beat, just having a backdrop to hear how the words fall is so helpful to getting that solid draft.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

My lyrics are super stream-of-consciousness, a byproduct of my process. I take from my experiences with the world with the intention to reflect and learn.

Not gonna lie, I don’t care about rhyming at all, as blasphemous as that feels to say. I obviously try to do it, but I prioritize getting my shit off. There are times where I just won’t rhyme. I’m not particularly proud or disappointed about the fact. Sometimes shit just happens that way. I think as I’ve become more comfortable with / better at rapping, I’m finding those pockets where I can say exactly what I want while rhyming. It’s a cool feeling. I will always prioritize saying what feels right though, rhyming or not.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I used to be extremely one-track minded regarding how I rapped, but I’ve been opening up to trying more. One of my homies, baegull, has been a huge reason for this. He has a clear style, but I don’t know anyone who’s so open to molding the way they rap like him. It’s quickly becoming his biggest strength.

Recently, I’ve been focused on rapping a little slower. I think there’s always an urgency in what I write, but I’m interested in articulating that feeling differently. I don’t think I rap fast per se, but I’ve been told that all the words can be overwhelming at times. Once I start, I don’t really stop until the song is over. I enjoy that about my work a lot; it’s the style built from my work as a poet. I’ll never let go of it. Still, I’m experimenting with letting lines breathe a tiny bit more, putting heavy emphasis on certain words through my delivery alone.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

"skytrain! skytrain!" captures who I am in a way no song has. I really feel it’s my best song so far. It’s genuinely difficult to describe how “me” that song is without saying “just talk to me then listen to the song,” but that’s really it. This song is a collage of people and events from my life, and even beyond it: writing during D.E.A.R time in 1st grade, visiting my grandfather in Alabama during late elementary, and references to friends from high school / early college, and more; all written under land that existed in my family long before I did. I was also just going dummy all through this song. Some of these lines are so fucking nuts, in my opinion. If you (the reader) have not listened to me before, I’d suggest that song to start (and then the rest of the EP, please and thank you).

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

A portion from "if you can read this (morning breath)," the sixth track on obtuse ways to say that i love you:

useda watch sun and moon play favorites now resort to tentative hope uncertainty, comfortable place could never claim clairvoyance my portion of love freedom rooted

This was the first song that I intentionally wrote for that project (I wrote "speakeasy" a couple months prior). I’d consider it the closest thing to a title track for the album. I spent a lot of that time reflecting on how I love and why. I think the track as a whole, but especially these lines, captured it extremely well. I really appreciate how I used the image of the ever-present sun / moon in the  sky, specifically how it seems like they’re always following us, as a representation for childhood. Like just the genuine main character syndrome we all had as kids, ya know? At those times, everything literally orbited around us. Of course that’s something to outgrow, but I also feel there’s some wholesomeness in being able to boldly claim, “I matter, I’m important.” It’s a very different feeling from the “tentative hope” that I live with now. But uncertainty has become a beautiful, comfortable place for me. The last line explains why, because my portion of love is freedom rooted. I’m uninterested in ownership, being followed, anyone’s world orbiting around me. Traditional ideas about romance haven’t served me well. Real rigid traditions aren't for me at all honestly. Who I love, when I love them, how I love them, and why, is not something I will ever apologize for. I can only hope I’m accepted for it. I think I captured that in a cool way here.

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

I don’t punch-in. I need to be able to do a verse from top to bottom, and I write so I can do so. It’s less a beef regarding punch-ins and more just a personal desire. I love performing my raps, so when I write/record I think about the performance a lot. Usually I perform my songs slightly differently from the recording, but I love having the “one take” energy.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Interviews. I love interviews so much. I read them all the time. Listen to podcasts all the time. I love hearing other artists’ perspectives. There are artists who I’ve grown to love off of listening to their music with insight they gave in an interview. I think this underground “scene” has so many platforms with consistent in-depth interviews / music discussions. I’m immensely grateful. Love to The Rap Music Plug Podcast, Freemusicempire, Call Out Culture, The Next Movement, CineMasai with Reel Notes, literally Caltrops Press. I could go on and on. There's so many. My first interview was with my homie kiluhmanjaro for his platform: ANTII, and I know his goal is to have interviews on this level. We’re blessed in my opinion.

Lately, I’ve been tapping into a lot of movies. My goal is at least one new movie a week. I saw Mo’ Better Blues for the first time at the end of last year and that fucked me up. It was so good. I’ve been obsessed with this movie for years, Monologue, directed by Adoor Gopalakrishnan. I don’t even know why I enjoy it so much, but it’s just so moving.

There’s this book, Against the Loveless World by Palestinian-American writer Susan Abulhawa. It felt like I was a kid again the first time I read through it. I finished it in like three days. Such an amazing read on a variety of levels. This book had a huge influence on my upcoming work with Outside House.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

I’ve definitely become more confident in my art. Everything I’ve done since I finished writing obtuse ways… in Spring of 2023 is at least pretty good. I trust my ability to write more than anything. When my gut says a line is good, then it’s good. Writing alone is easy. Rap is much more than writing though. I can be hypercritical of my pronunciation while rapping. Sometimes I get super into it and listening back there are moments that to me sound like syllables kinda just crashed together. I’m also aware that’s kinda just how I talk though. Despite this, I know when I have the right take. It’s a gut feeling, and my gut is the biggest reason I am where I am right now (maybe getting a better mic helped a bit too).

When I don’t trust myself I go to my friends, be it the ones who I make music with or those who aren’t as focused on music. My art would not be able to exist without community.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

ELUCID is my favorite rapper. I think it’s mad obvious he’s my favorite rapper. I’m genuinely struggling to write more, because I think listening to his music speaks for itself. Go listen to "Betamax," or "strength is admired humanity is denied," or "House Keys." I could go on, and don’t even get me started on Armand Hammer verses or insane features he’s done. What rapper wouldn’t want to be on this level? I’m grateful I’ve developed a strong sense of self because if not, I don’t know man. Fuck just living rent free, ELUCID has a city’s worth of mantras in my head. I admire what he does so much.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

I hope my art communicates the main thing I want: liberation for all marginalized people. Especially Black people. That’s the throughline between every syllable. I also work my art to accurately capture who I am as a person. If the listener gets it, they do. If not, so be it. I’m not perfect, and I hope I never am. I hope to be able to learn from the world up to the moment I leave it, and my art is the best means for that.

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: Grace Li @graceliphotography

[ihaveonlymydreams]

DO STONES FEEL?

By Mary Oliver

Do stones feel?

Do they love their life?

Or does their patience drown out everything else?

When I walk on the beach I gather a few

white ones, dark ones, the multiple colors.

Don't worry, I say, I'll bring you back, and I do.

Is the tree as it rises delighted with its many branches,

each one like a poem?

Are the clouds glad to unburden their bundles of rain?

Most of the world says no, no, it's not possible.

I refuse to think to such a conclusion.

Too terrible it would be, to be wrong.

[writer59january13]

This accidental arsonist sparked following matchless anecdote

I attribute being a grown mad scientist

linkedin with tacit approval of parents

(both long gone to the smoky afterlife),

and donned wizard trumpeting magic spells

while dark and stormy night

(one week before Halloween),

which usher nostalgic memories

encapsulated within the following poem

initially drafted quite some years ago.

Both parents possessed pedigreed panache

(but especially my father – renown Chemist

B.B. Harris and to slightly lesser extent

late culinary cuisine queen Harmit Harms

Kuritsky - gal whose troth thy then still

livingsocial nonagenarian widower papa

pledged, while holding some bubbling

sinister looking flask in hand while both

donned trumpeting finessed affianced

doctored formula to marry, when both

partook of blind date.

This combustible transunion link analogous

to their representative first electric kool aid

basic laboratory litmus test date), which

took place without a hitch, and telepathically

encouraged begetting retinue of revered

sons and daughters, whose ken hopefully

burned with passion KRISPR incubated,

inculcated, and incurred genetic outlook

ideally transmitted to prolific brood

of begotten babes.

This kid felt embers crackling, popping,

and snapping with yen that burned from

within and without buns sin burner of this

cingular earthlinked son.

No matter a bit tentative to experiment

willy-nilly (wonka like) with rather

explosive materiel, I received truckloads

of ammunition (in tandem with benevolent

benediction) to foster dare devil and

derelict pyromaniac precocity.

Those initial awkward formative forays

assaying, assessing and carefully calibrating

this, that or other liquid or powdery substance

found me meticulously measuring and

weighing the substances using kitchen

midden malodorous kid gloves.

Frequent disappointment arose from

yours truly as well as momma and papa

when net result (of these early attempts

to blend powders and/or liquids) merely

fizzled and self extinguished

into near inaudible poof.

Continual daily practice (would lead way

for me to enter Carnegie – Mellon ---- Hall)

after countless travails, trials and trolls i.e.

uber vaporous wisps to lyft yawping banshee

like holograms, or equivalent of 10,000 maniacs)

eventually bore successful fruit in the form

of near perfect results.

Success in hotly contested field Pyrotechnics

requires striking resemblance

to any other vocation.

One must be able, eager, ready and willing

to maintain burning passion no matter any

unforeseen setbacks or heat from an

objectionable source.

Yes, there would be an errant conflagration

(sometimes set purposely by adjunct professor)

as object lesson to master usage of fire

extinguisher/fighter, a vital piece of equipment

and evenhandedness for getting hold

instantaneously jetting kickstarter live matches)

to contain any runaway flame.

I do sheepishly admit to (ahem) you

on occasion the outcome went awry.

Nonetheless, they prided their potential

fire branded wizard in the making with

kudos and praise with DYNAMITE.

Practice from indiscriminately creating

unpredictable concoctions, these lethally

marshaled nonchalant opportunities

provided quintessentially random results

though usually very wimpy in tandem

with totally tubular nerdy, geeky, freaky,

and dorky beastie boy.

As proof positive and proud testimony, they

proudly pointed (upward) to the kitchen ceiling.

There such handiworks practically covered

entire ceiling with variegated splotches.

These scorch marks keepsake frescoes to show

kith and kin unspecified years into smoky future.

Quite accurate to assume

father and mother coached,

goaded, and nurtured

exploratory ambitions and

tried not to stifle

(at least consciously or deliberately)

my early stage ambition

toward scientific artiste bent.

As homeschooled and to some extent self taught

chemically romanced muralist, I grew up (not

surprisingly) in Unitarian household paid

close attention also adhered to the pioneer spirit.

The near limitless boundaries of life, liberty and

pursuit of understanding

an underlying credo, which

allowed, enabled and provided near endless

experimentation even at the risk of life and limb.

Aside talking head

nearly burning down the house

amidst talking heads practically in dire straits,

an instinctive reflex found me immolating myself,

occasionally singeing the canine fur of Lady,

Schultz, or Socrates, et cetera no frightful

catastrophic outcomes occurred thru milieu

of mixing deceptively harmless looking

inert raw materials.

Trial and error (quite successful with latter)

via blithely cooking dicey elements forming

goulash hiccupping laboratory mishmash

practically eliminated any pained regret to take

daring risks (such as getting married – ha)

in later life.

Despite favorable and lovable upbringing,

my mother (ever the protector and/or proctor

of our family and an excellent chef boyardee

to boot) still managed to insinuate (gently

as possible) the necessity to be careful when

igniting flammable materials lest

some uncontrollable conflagration ensue.

She (mom) did frequently confess to feeling

ever so slightly jittery and uneasy with my

slapdash amateurish homebrewed pyrotechnics

and much preferred to steer my attention toward

safer hobby such as the edible objets d’arts i.e.,

the much more drab field per how to present

and aesthetically appealing and nutritious meal.

Fondness to prepare food and pretend to be

faux renowned cook (this confession admitted

rather baldly and obviously deduced) actually

competed for my most favorite avocation activity

and spare leisure time.

In other words, this chap did relish designing

his own recipes mainly from leftovers in tandem

with unpronounceable multisyllabic organic

compounds filled numerous sized dishes

and aged apothecary bottles respectively.

Without question though, the passion plus

less riskier factor to combine and potchka

dry and wet ingredients together did rank

as considerably safer medium that still

allowed, enabled and provided me an equal

opportunity to test reactions, than those

earlier iterated potentially explosive hazards.

Nonetheless, my cavalier crusading overactive

appetite, hunger and thirst to discover causative

outcomes (even with purportedly innocuous

looking household cleaning supplies or easily

acquired inert materiel) nearly witnessed an

apocalypse at three two four Level Road

on one particular nasty occasion.

I anticipated our domicile would become

rent asunder, and reduced into a black

and decker ashen funeral pyre, yet for

grace of some divine force no family

members nor pets succumbed

nor got asphyxiated from choking acrid air.

[diary-of-a-teenage-cultleader]

Diary Entry #5

Today's Date is Sunday Oct. 15th, 2023. Current time: 12:42 a.m.

Dear Diary, and to anyone who reads this,

So, I'm back, maybe for good, maybe not.

Let's start our story with what's happened in the last 2 years...

J and I fell in love, and we've met twice in person now, even visited his country. He asked me to be his on December 1st, 2021. Our 2 year anniversary is coming up, though he did reject me in the beginning between fear of commitment and my mental instability, which in retrospect, I understand. Which I will explain now.

I've been diagnosed with Bipolar type 2, the type of Bipolar where your depressive episodes last longer than your manic episodes. My emotions fluctuate heavily and I tend to switch up daily, though I've been stuck in a depressive episode since I've returned from Europe.

Doll, Leaf, GT and I have started work as sex workers, though GT is taking a step back due to a traumatic event that I'd rather not explain, even if no one reads this.

I've made at least $150 in the last year from sex work alone, and even gained a sub, he's friendly enough but I'd rather not talk about that right now.

I've moved in with my biological father, I basically have the apartment to myself since he's never here and frequently leaves me on my lonesome. I have to learn new hobbies and activities to keep myself from losing my mind.

I've learned to play ukulele, which I'm very proud of, and I've learned to paint, and wood carve. I've discovered a passion for language I never knew I had. I've grown an interest in DnD and hope to create a group soon.

I believe I'm non-binary, I've been having these feelings for the last year and a half now, dressing and flipping between gender presentation really makes me happy, but I still don't relate with the girl identity enough to be genderfluid, though I may be overthinking it.

But enough about me, well, at least talking about random things. I'll tell you about today, if you're still listening:

Today, I chatted with J for a short time today after I woke up late, he seemed reasonably stressed since his mom tends to randomly dump her feelings in random breakdowns recently, making my boyfriend feel as though he needs to constantly do better and he has to help her, I can't tell him that he might be traumatized from always being the emotional step stool for his mom.

So, I've been holding in my emotions about everything I've been feeling lately, as to not burden him, both good and bad. I don't want to be overbearing with my love, and I don't want him to worry about my mental breakdowns over missing him so much. He was upset that I didn't suggest something I should do for him when I left, I think he was stressed about wasting time because I was busy getting ready to go carve pumpkins with my dad's girlfriend's family. I felt terrible since he cancelled his family plans for me, but I even offered to stay and he said no, I just don't know how to help him sometimes, I accidentally got really blunt with him about needing to go to therapy, I just feel like I'm supposed to be his emotional support but he doesn't tell me upfront what he needs sometimes. I get it, it's annoying if you have to do it all the time, but I'm trying my best, and still learning. I'm just scared he's gonna realize that I'm not the best possible partner and leave. Everyone who was important to me left without a word of why. I know I can be problematic sometimes but I swear with every fiber of my being that I am working to make a better man of myself. Especially to him. I even wrote a little poem explaining my feelings over my life at the moment.

I know it may be a bit harsh to read but it's the truth of how my life has been so far, I recognize to others, I will be a burden. I hope to fix this, but if not, I'm not even sure what I would do with myself.

My boyfriend said he wanted to make me feel bad, to help him, I'm not sure if it's toxic or not. I feel like there's some toxic traits from both ends that need to be worked on. I need to stop changing myself for him, I've before put my whole schedule around him, defied my parents for him, nearly abandoned my friends because he didn't like them. I wanted to spend so much time with him. He makes me feel bad sometimes, that I keep him from having friends because I can be a bit jealous, but I told him that I'm not worried about it anymore, I've grown over it. I'm scared I traumatized him. I'm scared that I manipulate him. I don't want to do those things. I never want to hurt him... I'm just so stressed with the idea that I'm a terrible partner. I apologize, this was meant to be a diary entry, not a vent. But back to the entry, I went pumpkin carving and talked with my dad about stuff and it went about as well as talking to my dad usually does, he over shares, but at least I made a cute pumpkin and got s'mores. Which was nice. I'll include pics here:

So I suppose the day didn't end too bad, it just hurt that my bf left me on delivered. He may have fallen asleep. I'll talk to him in the morning but hopefully things can be talked about. Thank you for listening to my rant, whoever could get through this whole thing.

Thanks, Diary

STRD:

RIIST:

[teyvat-imagines]

hello! I was wondering if you would do yanfei and hu tao (separate please) general relationship headcannons please? It's alright if it takes a while. Please don't overwork yourself :>

Hi hi! :D Welcome to the blog friend! ^w^ Thank you so much for the request! Hopefully you enjoy :)

General Relationship Headcanons

Yanfei:

○ Yanfei, bless her heart she's never been in love before so this is a first for her. She always liked the idea of love and being in a relationship, but seeing one too many civil dispute cases between angry ex-couples put her off.

○ She was afraid to open up and be vulnerable with someone. Or, at least that was until she met you! To say she fell hard would be an understatement. There was just something about you that drew her in. You were so kind and friendly and you could spend hours talking with her.

○ Yanfei was over the moon when you asked her to be your girlfriend. But, of course she didn't want to rush into this and let her feelings override logic. She asks for some time to think about it. Admittedly, she spends more of her time overthinking, but she does eventually reach a conclusion.

○ You're kind, caring, you're often going out of your way to help people, you do daily commissions with the adventures guild and surely they wouldn't take on anyone bad. You were sweet and she trusted you wouldn't hurt her.

"I've considered all the evidence presented and have reached a verdict. I... I think I can trust you with my heart. So, yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend. Now, if you'll just read through this contract and then sign here..."

○ Once the two of you are dating, she spends as much time with you as she can. Of course she doesn't shirk her legal duties, but she'll make exceptions for you. Go to lunch with you, meet you for breaks in the work day, even spend time with you in the office (and she doesn't even make you book an appointment with her either!)

○ She's a little shy with PDA, but she's happy to hold your hand and give you a little peck on the cheek when you two go for walks together.

○ Not really the type to get jealous - She trusts you and from what she remembers mistrust and jealousy seemed to be a large factor in the civil disputes she's managed. Although, if you go to anyone else for legal advice she will pout for at least a week and you'll need to make it up to her!

○ Sometimes, when you curl up together, she just watches you. You're so fragile and human and she knows you won't live anywhere near as long as she will. But, she will make the most of the time she has with you. She loves you with all her heart and will make sure you know that every day you're together.

Hu Tao:

○ The girl absolutely adores you and isn't afraid to make sure you know it! Any time you stop by the Funeral Parlour, or even if she spots you in the streets, she moves quick, jumping at you to hug you and hold you close.

○ She knows it flusters you a little, and honestly she thinks it's cute. Seeing you all shy and embarrassed only encourages her to tease you more.

○ Even before you're dating she clings to you, holding your hand, hugging you whenever she can, laying on your lap when she's tired, the list goes on! It's frequent enough that a majority of Liyue assumed the two of you were already together!

○ Despite this, she's surprisingly out of touch with her own feelings. She adores you yes, but if someone asked her if she loved you, Hu Tao just mentally shuts down.

○ Love? Is that the impression she gave? She was just being friendly! Sure you were nice and friendly and kind and strong and you seemed to really enjoy her company and she liked yours and- Ah! She stops herself, covering her face with her hands and groaning softly.

"Aiya... It really is love isn't it? Well, then if that's the case I'll just have to give it my all right until the very end~! Hee-hee~"

○ She confesses to you in the middle of the night at Wuwang hill. She brought you here for a midnight adventure, and of course because she found the area calming. She looks at you with bright eyes and a confident smile, but you can tell there's something off about it today. She's nervous and you've known her long enough to be able to tell.

○ When she confesses, she does so through a beautifully written poem. She describes falling for you, slow and sweet, like sinking down into the most beautiful abyss, unending and one she wouldn't want to escape from even if she could. She compares you to the sun and the moon, the way you bring both light to her life and allow her to shine. She goes over every detail about you she loves, from your looks to your personality, everything about you, and it leaves you feeling embarrassed and shy but so happy.

○ When Hu Tao finishes her poem, she's oddly quiet. Her hands are gripping the paper nervously and if you looked closely you may just catch the soft shake in her hands. But, she was afraid for nothing as you throw your arms around her shoulders and kiss her softly, marking the start of your time together.

[inamindfarfaraway]

May and June Headcanons

This is a sequel to this post. My basic ideas for the twins’ personalities, adolescences and adulthoods can be found there. If you like this post, you’ll probably like that one. To summarize, May is a cautious poet closer to Daisy, June is a bold animal lover and daddy’s girl. They go on to manage the Archives and the Other Bin, respectively.

As @drummergirl231-2 pointed out in her analysis of May and June’s characters, in “The Last Adventure!” May is more invested in why the clones exist and what FOWL’S goal is for them while June is more interested in the concept of a family. I’ve expanded on that. May tends to look inward, June tends to look outward. May is intellectual and focused on abstract information, June is social and engaged in the moment.

May:

In her time at FOWL she was forced to suppress her artistic side, but her intelligence, analytical skills and burning curiosity were useful even if they frequently annoyed Black Heron and Bradford. She’s always looked beyond the surface of things and felt a need to know the reasons behind them. Of course her greatest desire was to know why the clones were made. She liked the structure of FOWL, both the daily routine and strict hierarchy. Their status on it may have been low, but at least they knew where they stood. She likes certainty and permanence. That’s another aspect of her creative drive - her poems can last so much longer than her; she can control everything in them, tailor and edit and rework them until they’re ‘perfect’, when her own shortcomings seem impossible to fix.

The answer that she and June are clones of a clone and had a a very specific purpose they failed to accomplish… breaks her. Once the thrill of getting to do “normal kid stuff” wears off, she slips into intermittently recurring states of ennui, pessimism, lack of motivation and disgust at herself. Her deeper thinking becomes existential dread. Consistent love and support, therapy and the cognitive dissonance of ‘I’m a defective imitation of a person’ and ‘My wonderful, amazing sister would then be too’ eventually pull her out of this. She decides to assign herself purpose and settles on making as many people as happy as possible through her passions, including herself. By biological late adolescence, she is a secure anti-nihilist.

Her favourite subjects in FOWL training were scheming and espionage. The deliberate manipulation of cause and effect gave her a sense of significance and control over her own fate. These were the only occasions the girls’ judgments were trusted. She loved this, but was afraid of disappointing so badly that she would never get that level of trust and autonomy again.

Her favourite normal subjects are English, creative writing, philosophy and debate.

She gets into poetry without knowing Lena also writes it sometimes, but when she does learn this she’s overjoyed. They read and review each other’s poems. Lena is the second person to be permitted to read what May creates, following June of course.

Her patience and work ethic is impressive even to Scrooge. She’ll pour immense dedication into a single project, purely for her own satisfaction. She manages her time effectively and precisely. You could set your watch by her. A sign that she really likes you is simply spending a lot of time and unregulated time with you, whatever you’re doing or whether you’re doing the same things.

Perspective brings the burgeoning realization of how little she knows of the world, which makes her feel naive and stupid to her embarrassment. It kicks her love of learning into obsessive overdrive. Her family assures her that it isn’t her fault she was sheltered, and she is only a few months old after all. They help break the flood of information down.

Technically the older twin (she was released from her incubation tube three minutes and eleven seconds earlier; they checked the clock on the recorded footage), she feels responsible for June. She often took the blame for June’s ‘misbehaviour’, despite June’s protests.

She’s inquisitive, yet shy. She asks a lot of questions. For some months her reflexive reaction to her questioning is shame - Heron always hated when she spoke out of turn - until she develops better self-esteem.

She is an audial/verbal thinker.

She likes to express her emotions through her words. She’s talkative and eloquent once you get her going. FOWL training taught to control her body language and facial expressions, and she does it so subconsciously she can come across as unemotional. That leaves her speech the outlet she’s most comfortable using. In fact, this is a major part of why she loves the written word. It helps her understand and express herself.

The downside is using her words and logical mind to shield or deflect from matters she’s less sure of. She’ll try to articulate her emotions the same way she does information, and if she can’t she gets frustrated and keeps them locked up tight. She’s naturally more self-contained, secretive, comfortable with solitude and prone to internalizing feelings. Her love of escapism reflects this. When she encounters an obstacle that’s impossible to avoid or ignore, her first instinct will be to handle it alone or with June if there’s no way to keep her out of it. She isn’t good in large groups. She’s unaccustomed to both being expected to contribute as an individual and people valuing those contributions; and not being expected to be basically self-sufficient.

The revelation that it is okay to have a unique, independent voice, and people can and will want to hear it, is possibly the most liberating one she has in her early life.

The Archives is one of her safe spaces when it’s all too much. She reads in there a lot, allowing her to form a strange friendship with Emily Quackfaster and eventually be her assistant and successor. She doesn’t share her library secrets with just anyone, you know.

The aforementioned need for certainty means that she really doesn’t adjust to big changes well. She’s initially afraid of the multitude of potential problems that come with her new family - yay, so many more people to disappoint/anger/memorize the myriad of intricate nuances of so she doesn’t ever offend anyone - and feels out of place, afraid of damaging their preexisting dynamics.

The first new people she forms meaningful connections with are Donald and Daisy. Their loving guidance is invaluable in helping her find her place and she slowly starts to think of them as her new parents.

She hates thinking about Black Heron, after processing how awful she was. Her feelings regarding her are so complicated and… messy. She doesn’t like messy. It’s why she latches so hard onto Daisy, plus that she is also artistic and a relative newcomer to the family: she needs a proper replacement mother figure to move on from the old one. Any reminder of her past will make her clam up, attempt to leave the situation, or hurriedly distract from it. With time and therapy she works through this, but still generally finds writing or making symbolic art pieces easier than talking about these topics.

She’s highly conflict avoidant. Watching people fight or be angry terrifies her for the first few months and unnerves her long after, especially adults. Her previous guardians’ tempers were terrible, their punishments harsh. Fully accepting that every argument, misunderstanding or mistake isn’t the end of the world is a slow and huge step. Her default stress responses are flight and fawn.

The twins’ mutual BFFs are Webby, for obvious reasons, and Lena and BOYD, their definitely real all-but-siblings, who can agree carving out your own identity is confusing and hard but awesome and well worth it! See my headcanons about BOYD’s friendships for more on these four’s dynamic. May gets along best with Huey, her fellow nerd able to help her mediate her logical and emotional sides; Louie, her scheming partner, whose eye for people’s individual strengths builds her faith in hers; and Violet, another fellow nerd and good listener who’s happy to sit with her in shared introverted bliss.

Daisy’s designs, and fashion at large, fascinate her. Although you would expect her to hold onto her old outfit, redefining herself is so important and empowering to her she’s eager to try new clothes and styles. She settles on a cute, approachable, feminine style with Daisy-esque undertones of maturity and grace that increase over the years, in a variety of yellows, golds, ambers and oranges. Soft, fine fabrics like silk and lace. Bows, frills and ribbons as decoration, should there be any. She grows her hair out long, keeping her ponytail and sometimes wearing it half up, half down. She explicitly prefers less action-suitable clothes to remind herself that she is no longer required to be, well, a child soldier. Dressing is just another way she takes control of her life.

June:

The younger twin, she has always been keenly aware that she is genetically identical to her sister and petrified by the very plausible possibility that Bradford considered her redundant. May wondered why the clones were made; June wondered why they’d bother making two. Even her name just continued May and the long-lost April’s month theme. She must be a backup copy, a spare. Bradford and Heron’s cruelty toward her never let her forget this worry. So she went out of her way to be as distinctly talented as she could. Where May schemed, June did the dirty work. Where May asked too many questions, June taught herself to be happy with what she had. Where May evaluated, June acted. She would be invaluable to FOWL! In a totally different way to May!

This codependence on her twin and need to be needed unfortunately worsens after “The Last Adventure!” Now everything about their lives has been upheaved, reinforcing her reliance on the one constant, May. She does adjust faster to her new support system, but that just expands her reliance to the rest of the family. June has enough confidence in her identity to be more adaptable and daring than May at the cost of that confidence originating not within herself, but in her relationships. She defines herself according to what the people around her want her to be. Or what she thinks they want. Her worst fear is being dispensable and worthless. If May’s greatest hurdle to overcome is her identity issues, June’s is that usefulness does not dictate worth.

She found life in FOWL oppressive and stressful, nothing but a web of restrictions and expectations. May and Pepper, the sisters’ close friend who was as good to them as she could be without being fired, were precious respites. (Unbeknownst to them, Pepper once plotted to run away with them or sneak them out of FOWL before Bradford put a stop to it.) She didn’t understand how May coped so well with their demanding workload and schedule. She came to the conclusion that her sister must be innately better than her somehow, or there was something wrong with her - yet another reason to push herself to her limit to fill in May’s gaps.

Her favourite FOWL subject was combat and weapons training. It was pretty much the only class she consistently enjoyed, not involving the memorization of data or answering questions. It was an outlet for her energy and emotions. She secretly thinks that she’s stupid, at least compared to her twin, for being less academically inclined.

Her new favourite subjects are PE, biology and zoology.

She is a visual/kinetic thinker.

She’s slightly less talkative but much more tactile than May. She’s almost always moving, uses movement to regulate and process her feelings, and has animated body language and facial expressions. She’s a hugger and a crier. She hugs herself when she’s upset.

She’s very, very clingy, in an emotional and physical sense, and often forgets personal space and not to handle other people’s property without permission. Webby catches her meddling with her family board and rifling through her diary more than once.

Though crocodile tears and other tactics to garner sympathy came easily to her, she disliked Heron’s manipulation classes and continues to hold to a deep aversion to lying, deceit and secrets. She prefers to wear her heart on her sleeve.

She loves animals, and is drawn to misunderstood species, be they newly discovered and/or rare and not well studied yet, or commonly feared and vilified as evil, malicious, revolting, etc.. Vultures and hyenas? Beautiful. Rats? Spectacular. Reptiles? Gorgeous. Deep-sea creatures, eels and sharks? Stunning (sometimes literally, heh). Insects and arachnids? Fantastic. She genuinely doesn’t know why more people don’t find spiders cute. Small + Fuzzy + Big, Shiny Round Eyes = Cute. Is that not how it works? She’s constantly begging her family to let her have a pet. Most of her suggestions aren’t remotely kid-friendly (“But snakes can be pets!” “Not black mambas!”), but they promise her they’ll find something.

For her first birthday Donald gifts her a baby western hognose snake. She falls in love and names him Snickersnack - May’s been reading Lewis Cawroll and his funny invented words have stuck with June. “‘Snickersnack’ sounds snaky,” she explains with a shrug. She can spend hours watching, playing with and gushing about him. His shedding is especially captivating and she keeps all his lost skins in a memory box. He’s the first in a lifelong line of her pets, mainly reptiles and arachnids.

She’s a massive adventure enthusiast. It’s family bonding, action, fun, discoveries about the world, and a high probability of fantastical beasts all rolled into one!

She soon becomes a star Junior Woodchuck.

Ever since being trapped in a tube and containment cube, she’s claustrophobic. It feeds her comfort in the wide outdoors.

She misses Heron badly and keeps calling her Mum for a while. Though that relationship was abusive and one-sided, it was still incredibly important to her and she put a lot of effort into it. She has recurring nightmares about her death. It takes the end of their trip across the globe to (accidentally) call Daisy Mum, and longer still to be completely comfortable with it.

Based on May defending her, Pepper advocating for them and her observations of the McDuck-Duck family, she primarily associates showing love with protectiveness and is extremely protective of May, Webby and her other loved ones, in that order. This and her emotional intensity intersect to form a well of volatile, explosive rage to any perceived threat to a loved one or her relationship with them. Her default stress response is to fight. Della jokes that of course she’s inherited the Duck family temper. Donald is always prepared to offer anger management help.

Again besides Webby, Lena and BOYD, her best friends are: Dewey, who realizes their respective complexes about standing out are kind of complementary and helps her overcome her dependence on external validation; Huey, her Junior Woodchuck role model, who is also practicing anger management; and Gosalyn, whose toughness and street smarts, not to mention being a superhero sidekick June is awe of. (I think Huey would be important to both girls in different ways because he’s so caring and responsible and in the state “The Last Adventure!” leaves them they’re so needy. He goes straight into older sibling mode.)

She deeply admires Donald and gets along well with Scrooge and Della. Della sees a lot of her younger self in June. She is the coolest aunt the younger Duck twins could ask for.

Normally she’s all for trying new things, but she sees her and May’s matching outfits as a representation of their bond and her ideal of them as two sides of the same coin. So when May decides to switch things up and their family encourages June to follow suit, she’s resistant. Donald manages to convince her that she can’t wear that one outfit until she dies, but she agrees to change on the condition that she and May always coordinate. May can’t do that. For a week or so of building tension she seethes with repressed indignation, prone to snapping at May and making disparaging comments when attention is brought to her clothes. Finally they have their first big argument. They’re both distraught. After a short emotional recovery period, June apologizes and May forgives her, and uses the analogy of Snickersnack shedding his skin to explain why she doesn’t want to always match: Snickersnack is still the same snake and he doesn’t love June any less, he just needs to lose a superficial part of himself to grow as well as he can. June relents and slowly finds her own style. Turns out she likes baggy, functional clothes that can last long with pockets and layers. Tracksuits; trousers; hoodies; jackets; coats. Her colour scheme remains cyan and expands to turquoise, teal and any shade between blue and green. She takes to plaiting her pigtails as she grows her hair to a medium length. (Webby keeps her hair short.)

[writeblrcafe]

Digital interview with @grocerystoretrip

El sits down at a table in Writeblr Café and orders a coffee. We start talking about their writing. They write poetry and prose.

What got you into writing?

I treat writing as an outlet. I need to let out some of the experiences and feelings and thoughts and whatever else I have inside of me occasionally, or I get overwhelmed. I only started sharing my writing a few months ago, because while writing for myself definitely did help me, there's also this need for others to validate the things that can consume me until I'm no longer functional. Almost like I'm asking "Hey, this is okay, right? I can dramatize everything, right? It's not wrong of me to feel this deeply about certain things to the point where it starts intervening in my daily life, right?" by presenting my work. It's fucked up, but it works.

What inspires you to write?

Things I see on the street -- I once saw a kid attempting to climb a tree, and wrote the line "What joy it is to reach for a tree and fail" but never used it in a poem. My own life -- it ranges from the mundane to broader, more overarching themes. I made aloo poori for my roommate three times in a month and wrote a whole poem about it. The poem I posted before that was about my family: three generations of two women and a genderqueer person, all three of whom lived through different wars (both literal wars and inner wars that are equally destructive).

Which are recurring themes in your writing?

A reader once said they could sense 'quiet grief' from all my poems and I've stuck with that description ever since. Quiet grief! It's such a lovely phrase -- grief is dramatic most of the time, but I think deep-seated mourning that exists as an undercurrent in every other aspect of life, like love and having fun and getting hurt and pain, is subtler yet more painful. I also write a lot about war and intergenerational trauma because they've defined most of my life. Motifs of holes and hunger are common in my writing (an obvious influence of K-Ming Chang, one of my favorite contemporary poets); I just think they're neat. Holes? Absence and presence. Guilt. Emptiness -- literal or figurative. Carnal insinuations (which also pop up semi-frequently, as I sometimes write about sexual trauma). Hunger? Passion. Consumption. Need. Holes and hunger together? Double the effect!

How would you describe your writing style?

I've tried a lot of different styles, but I usually stick to a stilted, staggering flow. That's the most common writing 'quirk' that readers mention by name, at least! I intentionally tell stories that way -- my writing is made to feel like you're stumbling your way through three different things in the span of a second, because that's how it is for me, haha. Something that a reader (and a much-loved friend of mine) has said recently in regards to my writing has also left me thinking-- they said I "write like an ocean wave". More specifically, "it can be like a gentle prodding of water at your feet when you're on the beach or a tidal wave that just hits you point blank", "you feel like you've been touched by the sea (whether it be right after a storm or during the summer".

How do you deal with writer's block?

I don't, frankly. I don't rely on writing for a living, after all, so there's really no need to constantly force myself to push out stuff-- writing doesn't exist for the sole purpose of being consumed, it exists simply for us to create, etc.

Have you already published your writing? Include a link to your published work so we can share it.

I have no plans to publish my writing as of now!

But you can find their work on their page!

Get interviewed by Writeblr Café!

Any writer can participate. Just fill in this form. Maybe we will host interviews in an audio format if you are more interested in listening to an interview than reading it.

[witchie-writings]

Halo Headcanons: Jorge

| > I apologize for taking so long with these, my motivation wasn’t in the right place at the time, but I hope, at least, these are good enough. It was a request for @owomonster2 of Jorge X m!reader (I couldn’t exactly remember the request at the top of my head so i hope these do!) More under the cut

> I can imagine spartans themselves aren’t picky with who they find attraction to; afterall, they were bred for war and to discriminate against none 

> When the newest member, Spartan B132, joined Noble Team, all eyes noticed his optimized and lethal performance, but Jorge saw deeper than the blank facade he always had

> Hence Jorge sought daily conversations with them when he could, desiring to discover more about the supposed ‘hyper-lethal’ assassin; does he remember what his life was like before Reach, what sort of adventures he’s been on, etc.

> Much to the Spartan-II’s surprise at first, Spartan B132 responded with a casual, serene tone; it was considered a rarity to speak with such friendliness, as most spartans are known to be stoic iron-clad warriors 

> It was here that sparked Jorge’s interest in the new Noble member and he became more attentive 

> Both of you tied a bond with each other through multiple discussions that ranged from the realistic to utter fantasy and make-believe; the bond tightened significantly through your shared empathy concerning civilians

> You and Jorge were looped together into a knot as time proceeded and it shined brighter than stars; it was no secret that both of you had a thing for one another, something that was rare for spartans, and the rest of Noble Team saw it easily

> Now, to break all seriousness for a moment, Carter is 100% the dad here

> He’s concerned for a wide variety of reasons, but converts this concern into dad mode - he seeks out you and Jorge individually to talk about the blossoming flowers, and he was blunt about it

> Jorge was confident and didn’t hide his feelings for you, but it semi-grew into a ramble about the Spartan-II’s love for Nobe-6 that Carter had to sit through; the commander didn’t mind surprisingly, it does give him more insight than the surface level

> You were a little harder to get to however; it was in your blood to not let classified information into the wrong hands, and your relationship with Jorge you deemed classified - you didn’t hate Carter, no, but it’s what he would do with the information that set you on edge 

> Eventually you were coaxed into giving some details about the blossoms, but the whole ‘interrogation’ made you tense and alert

> With Cat, she was the mother; she wants the best for both parties, though made clear reminders of not to hurt each other and use frequent communication, after all, that's what her and Carter do

> Emile was the one who didn’t bother to care, “You do what you do, as long as I don’t find both of you making out in the damn closet.”

> It was at that point you and Jorge became official.. you both knew that for precautions, you hid your relationship from your superiors 

> Jorge was a softy and, when he’s not busy, loves to write short poems even if they aren’t the strongest 

> It was a hobby he was taught by a civilian once - he learned the basics of how to make a haiku, which was the easiest for him, and advanced his skills when he wasn’t deployed on a mission

> He wrote a few for you - it had a sweet, sappy feeling intertwined, but wasn’t overbearing in the slightest; they highlighted your strengths, bravery, and confidence 

> You tried your shot at writing a few, but it was.. let’s just say you prefer sticking to your guns and knives 

> If you were too lazy to rise out of your bed, Jorge would be the one to open up, drag you out of bed and carry you on his back, not bothered by how heavy you are (you hated him at times for doing this, you have an image to maintain)

> Another quality that had Jorge enamoured about you was your status of hyper-lethality - only one other spartan had such, so he was eager to see you in combat, training or otherwise 

> You try to size him up when it comes to exercise, be it lifting weights or doing simple push ups, Jorge finds the competition heart-warming and always encourages you all the way

> He never wants to see you be hurt by any means, and he always tells you if you need to take cover, let him take the rain - but sometimes you can’t always make it, and it throws Jorge overboard 

> Jorge tries not to lose his head when he sees you covering behind a wall, Cat tending to your injuries; it makes him fight harder for you, to provide you time to heal or get an evac - bullets mow down his enemies with terrifying efficiency, and if he runs out? The enemies would wish he had more shots to fire

> He’s a worry-heart about your safety after such a close encounter, he helps you up when you need it or be the one to tell you to rest if you’re pushing yourself too hard 

> Jealousy wise, what’s he need to be jealous of? Jorge has strong trust in you and knows you’d never go behind him like that; when anyone flirts with you, you’re sure to tell them that you’re already taken and take your leave