#kahlil sweet

[lucidloving]

Mahmoud Darwish, Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (trans. Ibrahim Muhawi) // John Keats, "Ode on Indolence" // Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart // Maggie Stiefvater, Call Down the Hawk // Misun Holdorf // Dear Icarus—Anna Miriam Brown // Louise Erdrich // Frank Bidart, "Guilty of Dust" // Mary Oliver, "Honey Locust" // Kahlil Gibran, "Defeat" // Mary Oliver, That Sweet Fruit John Clare // Brian Jekel // Katherine Mansfield, The Diaries of Katherine Mansfield // see 6 // Mary Oliver, Thirst // Yves Olade, Bloodsport // Marina Tsvetaeva, Poems for Akhmatova (trans. Michael R. Burch) // Galileo Chini, Icarus // Victoria Chang, The Trees Witness Everything

[gatzbright]

writing [love]; dream, a writer.

Dream: I like writing. I like writing poems; I like writing songs; I like writing everything. I like storytelling—I just like storytelling. Storytelling in general is fun. I do a lot of storytelling through, like, my videos, through my video editing ... that's my favourite part of writing.

Dream: So, it's [love is] special, you know? You can't really explain it. Um, you know, with your mum, your dad, your—your sisters, your brothers, your cousins, your—your friends that you've known since you were a kid. Your friends that you just met a year ago that you are absolutely in love with as a person.

Dream: 'Have you written stories as well as songs lately?' Yeah—I mean, well ... I feel like songwriting is very—it's like, you just take stories—like 'Roadtrip' was, like, essentially a poem, and a story, that was turned into a song. And I feel like that's with a lot of stuff. 'Mask' is the same; 'Mask' was a poem turned into a song.

Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott | Dream Subscriber Twitter Space April 30th, @/dreamwastaken | It's Been A Long Day, Spacey Jane | Dream's Tiktok 'love is scary', @/dreamwastakenwastaken | Photograph in the studio from Dream's Instagram post, @/dreamwastaken | The Story of Mary MacLane, Mary MacLane | Our Beautiful Life When It's Filled With Shrieks, Christopher Citro | Johnny Cash’s handwritten to-do list, 1969 | Tweeted screenshot from Dream's notes app, @/dreamwastaken | Anne Carson interview, 2016 | Dream and George on the Dream Panel at TwitchCon Las Vegas 2023, TwitchCon VOD | Tweeted screenshot from Dream's notes app, @/dreamwastaken | On Writing, Stephen King | A fan's Tiktok of Dream and George at emo nite, @/angstboycam | Dream explaining 'Spotlight' in the 'to whoever wants to hear' lyric booklet, Dream | Your Song, Elton John | Fan photos of Dream and George at Dream's tour

Dream's 'Kind Of Love' speech LA concert night two, @/milktea_grn | The Power Of Love, Frankie Goes To Hollywood | Fan photos of Dream and George at Dream's tour | You Are In Love (Taylor's Version), Taylor Swift | Dream explaining 'Paranoid' in the 'to whoever wants to hear' lyric booklet, Dream | Dream and George on the Dream Panel at TwitchCon Las Vegas 2023, TwitchCon VOD | Words, Gregory Alan Isakov | Dead Poets Society, dir. | Dream Subscriber Twitter Space April 30th, @/dreamwastaken | Sweet Nothing, Taylor Swift

Fan photo of George recording Dream at his concert | Addressable Thou, Chase Berggrun | Bright Star, dir. Jane Campion | George smiling at Dream in IRL DREAM TEAM IN MADRID, Sapnap VOD | Endymion, John Keats | Dream and George on set: Everest – Dream & Yung Gravy BEHIND THE SCENES, Dream Music | [brIght], E. E. Cummings | George and Dream in IRL DREAM TEAM IN MADRID, Sapnap VOD | Sand and Foam, Kahlil Gibran

[oldlovecassette]

thanks @planetaire for the tag! I've been summoned to blab about myself

last song: disguise by amaarae, last song I listened to while I was doing cardio yesterday after work

last book: just finished the prophet by kahlil gibran (I always feel shy to admit it when I haven't already read a classic before, but it's cool). "that which seems most feeble and bewildered in you is the strongest and most determined." <- last sentence I highlighted in the book

last movie: party girl (1995), I think I'm going thru something bc I started crying during the closing credits lol

last tv show: Idk if anyone's heard of this one television program by the name of supernatural … I’m watching it for the first time, almost done the first season #AMA

sweet/spicy/savory: savoury, sometimes spicy (like yesterday when I was craving tacos), on very specific occasions sweet

relationship status: single & vibing

last thing I googled: “pulsing” - was trying to look up synonyms for a poem I’m working on

current obsession: sort of an ongoing obsession with ebbs and flows throughout the weeks but I've been really interested in medieval history and learning what life was like during the middle ages

looking forward to: fingers crossed, I may be going somewhere warm and sunny in december for my christmas vacation — thinking of borrowing a few colleen hoover ebooks from the library to read on the beach bc I've never read her books before / seems like appropriate beach reading material (anyone with better beach read recommendations pls share)

tagging @intrusivethoughtsandprayers @phibes @rosewatergrapefruit @poetriarchy

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

"In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures." Kahlil Gibran

[orangeblossombitch]

Oranges for Yafa, poppies for the martyrs of Gaza, the sweet figs of Nablus, the tiles of Ramallah, al-Kahlils ancient ceramic patterns, the tree of life and Majdalawi fabric, made only in Gaza.

[ranchracoon]

"To Be The One"

Ch. 1 A New Assignment

Master Post

The large glass building looks menacing in the early hours of dawn with minimal sunlight and dew covering the ground only adding to the aesthetic. The large Umbrella Corp logo sitting in the center of the building like a hypnotic red and white eye. Numerous people enter, wearing business casual or business formal depending on their level of importance. They each scan their ID badges to gain entry, then take the elevator to their respective floors to start on their work. Only a handful have access to the basement where rows of individual laboratories are stationed like those little glass boxes they keep the rats in. Before one can enter, they must go through a lengthy decontamination process, mask up, suit up, and go through a final trial to make sure their suits do not have any punctures. Any kind of defection could be deadly considering the severity of specimens they work on. 

One of these scientists is Dr Faekah Kahlil, one of the nations leading pathologist doing what she always dreamed of doing; making the world safer. She's been there since before the sun, working on her newest batch of frozen diseases sent straight from the arctic. Little does her bosses know that sometimes she loses track of time, and often sleeps in the company break rooms. She may or may not use the flushing system to give herself a quick rinse, and keeps a change of spare clothes in her locker. Add a little spritz, cup of coffee, and some makeup, no one is the wiser. Except Francis the nightguard, who has on more than one occasion found her passed out on the couch. She frequently butters him up with homemade dishes and baked goods so he looks the other way. 

Last night was one of those nights, she makes sure she's in her respective area before anyone arrives and they just think she has specialized access to come in early. As her colleagues trickle in she's already started on her work. Studying these new found diseases and the impact they could have on humanity. Should a single speck of one of these diseases get out, it could cause a world wide black plague 2.0 and she's not going to be responsible for the death of millions. So she moves slowly, cautiously, and takes her decontamination ritual seriously. The other perk to working with deadly diseases that need to be kept in minus Celsius temperatures, is she gets to work entirely alone. A blessing and a curse. She doesn't get to talk to anyone unless on break, but she also gets to listen to music she likes and can be completely absorbed into her world. 

A knock on the glass shatters her from her concentration, luckily she wasn't transporting something fragile and simply examining under a microscope. She looks over to see another scientist, Dr Cooper, waving at her and signaling for her to listen. Faekah reaches over and mutes the music currently playing quietly through the speakers, Cooper pushes a button making the speakers crackle and whine. 

"Hey, Mr. Moore wants to see us."

That's all he says before he releases the communication button and leaves her line of sight. She sighs. It'll take her at least an hour to clean up, then another fifteen minutes to properly decom. This better be important and not like last time where she was promised an expedition to the arctic to study these specimens, and wound up doing glorified secretary work. She did not spend eleven years of schooling, six years of active duty, residency, and competitive interviewing with backed sources just to be a glorified secretary. She takes her time, she gets a little satisfaction from making Mr. Moore wait. He constantly referrers to her as Miss Kahlil or some wildly inaccurate nickname because he can't pronounce her first name. Nothing irritates her more, so she gets off by making him wait longer than he needs to by taking her sweet, sweet time. By the time she does arrive with Dr Cooper, Mr. Moore is impatiently pacing back and forth in his office and his irritation is evident on his face. 

"It's about time Miss Kahlil."

"Dr" she retorts. 

"Not today" he grumbles before walking around his desk with two large stacks of papers, "I have a new assignment for you and Mr. Cooper."

"Dr" he says casually. 

Faekah looks up at him, Dr Cooper gives her a wink and a cheeky grin, making her smile back before returning her gaze to Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore rolls his eyes and shakes his head, he would ask anyone else if he could, but he needs the best of the best to work on this new assignment. He hands the large stacks to each of them, letting them take a moment to read through the assignment details and view all the legal paperwork they have to sign. 

"So you want us to study...mold? This seems like Dr. Coopers area of expertise. I'm a pathologist not a mycologist." She states.

"If you agree to the terms laid out in the packet, I can answer any questions you have." Mr. Moore answers.

"Can we at least know what we're getting into?" Dr. Cooper asks.

"That is all I'm legally allowed to disclose unless you agree. This is a big job that requires my best people and the utmost secrecy. No one else can know what you two are working on, and you'll be given special clearance to our sister site where you'll be working together. It's a secondary location located just outside the city."

"Can we have some time to think about it?" She asks. 

"I need an answer now."

Faekah looks down at the stack of papers, every instinct inside her is telling her this is a bad idea. If she were in an animal form, her hackles would be raised in defense. Yet, a smaller, deeper part of her wants her to take the opportunity. This could be the key to realizing her dream or could be the key to even more paperwork and a worldwide outbreak. 

"I'll do it" she answers. 

"Well, if she's doing it, I'll do it too."

"Excellent! I just need you both to sign those papers, pack up your things, and you'll start tomorrow."

Faekah couldn't sleep that night. She hovers over the folder of information given to her about this new assignment. She keeps reading the headlines of the incident report over and over again about this Baker House incident. She's never heard of mold being capable of turning people homicidal to this degree. Her mind is running a million miles a minute on what could be so secretive of this new assignment. Part of her thinks there may be something illegal behind it, wouldn't be the first time Umbrella got caught in a scandal. She loves her work, what she does, but now she's regretting this choice. What if she gets caught up in something and can't back out? 

The next morning does very little to ease her concerns as she arrives at the sister sight only to be escorted through the unmarked building by an armed guard. The guard guides her to an all glass room where she goes through a lengthy decon process, and dawns brand new protective gear. She carefully positions the mask on and the safety glasses fit over her own, as she steps into the glass chamber like she's prepared for surgery. She waits for Dr. Cooper before beginning anything, while waiting she takes inventory of everything made available to them and makes a handwritten list. Dr Cooper arrives shortly before she's done, and by the time she's finished he too is geared up and ready to examine the specimen. 

"I've never seen anything like this" Dr. Cooper states. 

The following days bleed into weeks and eventual months with no clearer answers than before. This mold is different, it acts as though it's alive in the sense a mammal is alive; it looks as though it's made from tar rather than mold. Feakah spends a lot of time researching how pollution might impact the mold and its spores, with nothing so far. As she looks through another slide of samples she narrows her eyes, seeing the mold indicating properties similar to common parasites. There's something they're not telling her. She looks up toward Dr. Cooper then glances over to one of the glass walls, seeing two armed guards standing at attention with their backs toward her. She watches for a moment, then sees two more guards patrol pass. 

"Hey Cooper" she whisper yells. 

"What's up?" He answers, poking his head up. 

She motions with her head, "have you noticed there's more armed guards lately? I thought there were only the two at the gate."

"Oh yeah, I saw them on the way in this morning. You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

Cooper looks around the room then pushes his rolling chair closer to her, leaning over the desk. 

"There was a huge breach last night. Some files got leaked from inside Umbrella Corp. Of course they're blaming H.C.F but, I think it's bigger than that. All these soldiers are from B.S.A.A. Smells a little suspicious to me."

She rolls her eyes, "you and your conspiracies."

"I heard it from the big boss himself. He was having a very heated conversation the other night before I left. I don't think he knows I heard."

Faekah looks at him for a moment then shakes her head, she's not getting into this debate again. For a scientist and a doctor, he believes in some crazy things. She's fairly certain half the things he says are made up just to get under her skin or see what she reacts to. However, she continues to look over at the guards, growing weary and suspicious about the amount of them and by the specimen. Something is up for sure. 

That night when she arrives home she flicks on the light to her apartment and stops dead in her tracks upon seeing a folder lying on her counter. She looks around quickly and locks the door behind her, her gun is in the safe by her bed. Luckily for her she has a backup plan. She squats down and shifts through one of her shoes, grabbing a knife she keeps stashed away before she creeps around her entire apartment. Once she's certain that the apartment is clear, she hesitantly approaches the folder, seeing her name on the tab marker. She swallows thickly and flips the folder open, looking it over. 

It has all of her information in it; her full name, her birthday, her hometown even the full names and information on her immigrant parents. She flips the page and her blood runs cold, seeing pictures of her as a preteen in Racoon City. Next are the articles of the city being destroyed by the president. She had blocked those memories, the horror she faced of people being infected and the sounds of their screaming. Sometimes those screams still haunt her. It's the whole reason she wanted to do what she does, so that no one has to face such a trauma again. 

She flips through the pages, the second to last page has a screening of her parents genomes and the discrepancies between their genetic makeup and that of a normal human. The next page is her with the same notes and pictures of her midshift. So they know. They know she's not human. Down in the farthest corner she sees in bright red stamped letters: INFECTED. 

Continue Reading

[gold-hand]

Get To Know Me Game

Thank you so much (belatedly) for the tag @mllekurtz!!

last song: Sinéad O'Connor's cover of All Apologies.

favorite color: Not to steal @mllekurtz's answer, but also a deep dark emerald green!

last book: Finished was Bad Gays: A Homosexual History by Huw Lemmey and Ben Miller, but I've just started Prophet by Helen McDonald and Sin Blaché.

last movie: Queer - it was both bizarre and wonderfully horny, and made me ugly cry so hard that I had to go to the bathroom in the cinema to try and pull myself together before we could leave.

last tv show: I never really watch TV shows because I am too twitchy, but I devoured Interview With The Vampire and am vibrating angrily waiting for a crumb about series 3.

sweet/spicy/savory: THIS IS SO HARD probably savoury - I would eat sea salt and black pepper kettle chips until I explode.

last thing i searched for online: Kahlil Gibran, who is a Lebanese-American writer/poet who I know nothing about but he wrote some very beautiful lines and I would like to read more!

current obsession: I have completely regressed and have been devouring Dorian Pavus/The Iron Bull on AO3. I'm in the trenches with my feelings over here.

looking forward to: I don't do new year's resolutions as such BUT I said I wanted to say yes to more things in 2025 because I am a cliché - my first 'yes' was to @glittermobboss to finally finally visit her and go to a festival!

Very gentle no pressure tag for @blacktofade, @glittermobboss and @velsim if any of you would like!!

[imprintmoonstone]

Hey! thank you for the tag (and for boops too haha) @liamisperfection 🤍💫

Last Song: Midnight by Liam Payne & Alesso

Last Book: The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran (re-read)

Last Movie: Venom (nth time re-watch lol)

Last TV Show: Abbott Elementary (season 4)

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Spicy or Savory

(Sorry, i don't want to talk about my relationship status 😅)

Last thing Googled: Road Music by Richard Siken

Current Obsession: not really obsessed but 'Nao' and 'Griff' have some good songs!

Looking forward to: getting a good night's sleep

tagging (no pressure): @theeliampayne @lesbian-tomlinson @princesshair and anyone who wants to participate!

[secondblooms]

He was called "filthy" because his skin was dark, unintelligible because he could barely speak English. When he arrived in this country, he was placed in a special class for immigrants. But, a few of his teachers saw something in the way he expressed himself, through his drawings, through his view of the world. He would soon master his new language.

His mother had made a difficult decision to take him, his two younger sisters and a half-brother to America, seeking a better life for their family. They settled in Boston's South End, at the time the second-largest Syrian-Lebanese-American community. The family would struggle and the young boy would lose one sister and his half-brother to tuberculosis. His mother would die of cancer.

He would write, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

He was born in poverty on January 6, 1883 in what is now modern day Lebanon.

He believed in love, he believed in peace, and he believed in understanding.

His name was Kahlil Gibran, and he is primarily known for his book, "The Prophet." The book, published in 1923, would sell tens of millions of copies, making him the third best-selling poet of all time, behind Shakespeare and Laozi.

Published in 108 languages around the world, passages from "The Prophet" are quoted at weddings, in political speeches and at funerals, inspiring influential figures such as John F. Kennedy, Indira Gandhi, Elvis Presley, John Lennon, and David Bowie.

He was very outspoken, attacking hypocrisy and corruption. His books were burned in Beirut, and in America, he would receive death threats.

Gibran was the only member of his family to pursue scholastic education. His sisters were not allowed to enter school, primarily because of Middle Eastern traditions as well as financial difficulties. Gibran, however, was inspired by the strength of the women in his family, especially his mother. After one sister, his mother, and his half-brother died, his other sister, Mariana would support Gibran and herself by working at a dressmaker's shop.

Of his mother, he would write:

"The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word 'Mother,' and the most beautiful call is the call of 'My mother.' It is a word full of hope and love, a sweet and kind word coming from the depths of the heart. The mother is everything – she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness."

Gibran would later champion the cause of women’s emancipation and education.

He believed that “Safeguarding the rights of others is the most noble and beautiful end of a human being.”

In a poem to new immigrants, he would write, "I believe you can say to the founders of this great nation. 'Here I am. A youth. A young tree. Whose roots were plucked from the hills of Lebanon. Yet I am deeply rooted here. And I would be fruitful.'"

He would write in "The Prophet":

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

● THE PROPHET ●

Do not live half a life

and do not die a half death

If you choose silence, then be silent

When you speak, do so until you are finished

If you accept, then express it bluntly

Do not mask it

If you refuse then be clear about it

for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance

Do not accept half a solution

Do not believe half truths

Do not dream half a dream

Do not fantasize about half hopes

Half the way will get you no where

You are a whole that exists to live a life

not half a life. ~Khalil Gibran

(Book: The Prophet https://amzn.to/3SnIaZd )

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

He was called "filthy" because his skin was dark, unintelligible because he could barely speak English. When he arrived in this country, he was placed in a special class for immigrants. But, a few of his teachers saw something in the way he expressed himself, through his drawings, through his view of the world. He would soon master his new language.

His mother had made a difficult decision to take him, his two younger sisters and a half-brother to America, seeking a better life for their family. They settled in Boston's South End, at the time the second-largest Syrian-Lebanese-American community. The family would struggle and the young boy would lose one sister and his half-brother to tuberculosis. His mother would die of cancer.

He would write, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

He was born in poverty on January 6, 1883 in what is now modern day Lebanon.

He believed in love, he believed in peace, and he believed in understanding.

His name was Kahlil Gibran, and he is primarily known for his book, "The Prophet." The book, published in 1923, would sell tens of millions of copies, making him the third best-selling poet of all time, behind Shakespeare and Laozi.

Published in 108 languages around the world, passages from "The Prophet" are quoted at weddings, in political speeches and at funerals, inspiring influential figures such as John F. Kennedy, Indira Gandhi, Elvis Presley, John Lennon, and David Bowie.

He was very outspoken, attacking hypocrisy and corruption. His books were burned in Beirut, and in America, he would receive death threats.

Gibran was the only member of his family to pursue scholastic education. His sisters were not allowed to enter school, primarily because of Middle Eastern traditions as well as financial difficulties. Gibran, however, was inspired by the strength of the women in his family, especially his mother. After one sister, his mother, and his half-brother died, his other sister, Mariana would support Gibran and herself by working at a dressmaker's shop.

Of his mother, he would write:

"The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word 'Mother,' and the most beautiful call is the call of 'My mother.' It is a word full of hope and love, a sweet and kind word coming from the depths of the heart. The mother is everything – she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness."

Gibran would later champion the cause of women’s emancipation and education.

He believed that “Safeguarding the rights of others is the most noble and beautiful end of a human being.”

In a poem to new immigrants, he would write, "I believe you can say to the founders of this great nation. 'Here I am. A youth. A young tree. Whose roots were plucked from the hills of Lebanon. Yet I am deeply rooted here. And I would be fruitful.'"

He would write in "The Prophet":

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

[rescuerivy]

how do you feel about Kieran??? :)

Kieran, when I first met him, was a shy and kind Furret. I feel bad for not taking my mask back when he offered it then. I nearly died that day, and my mind was still fuzzy after being rescued. I can't thank him enough for clearing my name. As much as I'd like to be a part of Kieran's team, I owe my life to Rose fore saving my life!

Months later, when we got to the academy, Kieran looked so different. It was kind of scary... Scarier still, he tried to kill my leader out of pure jealousy and a thirst to be the strongest! No doubt he and his team was disqualified and suspended after that... After the recovery, we were tasked with awakening Gala's true power. Kieran wanted to be the one to give them their power. But something went horribly wrong and nearly killed him. Thankfully Sunset and Azure blocked the blast as quick as they did...

After calming Gala down, he wanted some time to rest, and requested to join after he's physically sound. Kieran apologized to Rose for the attack and asked to start from scratch as friends. He certainly didn't look like he was in control during that fight. Rose accepted seeing his sincere look in his eyes.

Then came the Mochi mind control! Team Ogre, Team Bramble, and the false three, were the only ones not infected. That sickening sweet-smelling purple saliva still gives me nightmares! That damned peach was finally taught a lesson and dragged to purgatory for what he did... The Loyal three gave that Pecharunt their thoughts for abandoning them when they died... But I delivered the final blow... For Kahlil...

What was I asked again...? Oh, yeah! My thoughts on the Furret! He kept the snappy hypnotized crowd at bay as we delt our business with the Pecharunt. I managed a stable relationship with Kieran and his sister after all that! And he re-entered the academy and start over.

I can't be mad after at him for helping us twice. A very sweet Furret, and good friend.

[finisheachday]

29.07.23

“And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. / For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.” —Kahlil Gibran

Still busy in the best way. It’s been a week of networking and going out with friends, living the life I thought I was never meant to and never deserved. Got to see an amazing performance of As You Like It down my the river last night, and suddenly the world is beautiful again and filled with love.

[radical-revolution]

On Friendship

Kahlil Gibran - 1883-1931

And a youth said, Speak to us of Friendship.

And he answered, saying:

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.”

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery us not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.

If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live.

For it is his to fill your need but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

***From The Prophet (Knopf, 1923).

[localbookshop]

9 People You Want To Get To Know Better

Thank you @bluntforceyearning for tagging me!

favourite colour: blue

currently reading: The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

currently watching: Outlander

sweet, savory, or spicy?: bittersweet and savory

currently working on: studying, writing (mostly for cathartic purposes), also, I'm going to start attending pottery classes (yay!)

tagging: @partialto @nymphastral @peter1rose @wine-stained-dawn @opheliadae and every beautiful person who might feel interested in participating 💖

[valeriexwilliams]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 !

[cisfemale and she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [VALERIE WILLIAMS]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [BRITTANY O’GRADY]. You must be the [TWENTY-FIVE] year old [BARTENDER AT FOUR LEAF IRISH PUB + ASPIRING MUSICIAN]. Word is you’re [COMPASSIONATE] but can also be a bit [NAIVE] and your favorite song is [MESS IS MINE BY VANCE JOY]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS]. I’m sure you’ll love it! [mel, 23, est, they/them, no triggers]

TRIGGER WARNING: car crash, infant loss, pregnancy

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

Name: Valerie Mae Williams Nicknames/Alias: Val

Faceclaim: Brittany O'Grady

Age: Twenty-five Gender: Cisfemale Sexuality: Pansexual Date/Place of Birth: July 3rd / California Currently: Aurora Bay, California

Positive Traits: Compassionate, dedicated, protective Negative Traits: Naive, overly trusting, Astrological Sign: Cancer Archetype: The kind-hearted

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘.

Valerie Williams was born two years after her older brother, Chase Williams in a loving home in Southern California.

She was always a sweet kid, well liked by all. She listened to her parents and authority figures and always made sure to put her everything into the work she was given.

They were a football family, through and through. It was no surprise when not only her brother followed in her dad's footsteps, but she practically lived at the football stadium growing up.

Valerie was always strong academically, but where she really thrived was music. She started writing songs as a tween, keeping a notebook under her bed before beginning to persue it more seriously in high school.

She was always good, but it was her music teacher who encouraged her to take it more seriously. As time went on, she couldn't see herself doing anything else.

She tried music school for a year, but got very little out of it. Valerie was shoved into a box that she didn't want to be in and eventually made the decision to drop out of college, much to her parents pleas to do otherwise. While they had a difficult time coming around to the idea, they eventually found it in themselves not to hold it against her.

Valerie had ever intention to hit the ground running, and that was exactly what she did. She continued writing, putting out music, getting gigs at local bars. By age twenty, she was able to save enough money to move out and get a place of her own.

Valerie remembers the accident as clear as day. Rushing to the hospital the moment she got the call that Chase, his girlfriend and her niece were hurt. Never had she ever believed that such a happy day could fall apart so quickly.

She tried to be there for Chase as much as she could, but grief takes its course in ways that some may never understand. Regardless, she offered her shoulder to cry on -- any day, any time.

At age twenty-three, Valerie herself was staring at a positive pregnancy test after a one night stand. The father made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with their child, and it was clear that Valerie was staring down the rabbit hole of single parenthood.

It was a rough time for her, and she had never felt more alone. However, she was lucky to be surrounded by people who loved and cared for her and wanted nothing more than for her to be happy.

Kahlil Chase Williams was born healthy and happy and while Valerie had never expected to become a mother, she considers her son to be her greatest gift.

The two soon relocated to Ocean Crest after he was born and Valerie dreams to one day give her son a big backyard and house to call his childhood home.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

Valerie loves her regulars at the pub, and many of them know her by name.

A very casual, practical dresser. A regular uniform for her would be a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers or a dress -- with the sole thought that she has to think very little about her outfit.

Hasn't had a serious relationship since Kahlil was born, simply because she's worried of letting in the wrong person. This has caused her to be a little hyper-vigilant about who she spends her time with, as she has been burned before.

Is so unbelievably proud of her brother and all that he has achieved, which is the reason why he was the inspiration for Kahlil's middle name.

MORE TO COME.

[khlalaspirit]

On Friendship

Kahlil Gibran

1883 –  1931

And a youth said, Speak to us of Friendship.  And he answered, saying: 

Your friend is your needs answered.  He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. 

And he is your board and your fireside

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.  When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.”  And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;  For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.  When you part from your friend, you grieve not;  For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.  And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.  For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery us not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. 

And let your best be for your friend.   If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.   For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?   Seek him always with hours to live.   For it is his to fill your need but not your emptiness. 

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.  For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. 

From The Prophet (Knopf, 1923). This poem is in the public domain.