Nikki glaser good girl tour

So we have been talking w this girl online every day fir the past 6 months almost and tommorow we will meet for the first time face to face. We have been talking consistently and have gotten to know each other quite well and we have a good chemistry at least judging from texting. We live in the same city but due to different schedules and other stuff we haven't been able to meet irl yet. I am 20 (M) and she is 19 (F), and my question is pretty simple, should I go fir the first kiss tommorow, on our first date or not yet and just keep it for a later date? Also any first date advice would really be appreciated cuz I really want to make this experience great for both me and her. Thank you

I hate that it's true, but the fact is I am jealous of the attention my 17 and 19 year old (one boy, one girl) are getting. I understand the reasons. They are hipper, and younger than me. They are a cool age. I am middle aged...not a cool age. Also, people my age love to feel good about themselves by chit chatting with cool, young adults. I get it. I feel good to when other young adults give me positive feedback. And to be fair, I got lots of attention too when I was that age. My step kids are nice kids too. Respectful, polite, easy to approach. I'm a nice guy, but I'm middle aged and I cannot compete with that. Young adults are the trend setters. I hate that it's such a negative when I have guests over and my step kids get all the attention. Everyone fawns all over them, practically kissing their butts. Ugggghhh. I wish I didn't have such ill feelings about it, but I'm afraid I do, and it's a big enough negative that I'm posting about it on reddit lol. I know if I move out and get my own place this problem will stop, but that's extreme and I don't really want to have to do that. Any advice?

Well, I guess I should start at the beginning the majority of all stories tend to start. I was born in Detroit, Michigan in the month of June 1977. I was soon adopted and never met my biological family but have been told that I have two biological sisters, Karen, and Xinea as well as two brothers named Robert, and Jerry(perhaps Gerry I suppose). My mother is Patricia Bray, and my alleged father is Carl Ambers according to the adoption records that I found after the death of my adopted mother, Opal in 2001; I was a grown man by then. I was adopted by Opal and Frank Smith(we will say) in 1978. Somehow they knew my biological mother but that connection was never revelled to me. Opal was one of 17 children who grew up on a mountain somewhere in West Virginia. I was told that her father killed himself in front of her and her siblings when she was less than 10 years old. He was a coal miner and was injured in some type of accident and left unable to work with 19 mouths to feed; hard to fathom but for the love of God why in front of the children? Regardless of his reason this event left a lasting impact upon his 9 year old daughter that would ripple throughout space and time with the force of an atomic bomb; to this day that act and subsequent reaction linger. Opal was a devout Pentecost, Southern Baptist, or whatever similar religion she felt; not exactly sure. She was once a member of the People's Temple church in the early days when they were in Indianapolis (circa 1953-54). She left the church when the new leader, a man by the name of Jim Jones took over and began to allow people of other races into the fellowship; Opal being a woman of God as well as a devout racist left the church. They would later commit forced suicide in Ghana by drinking cyanide laced drinks at the end of machine guns. Opal was a small woman and she had many older brothers. She spent her developmental years fatherless, emotionally wrecked, and on a mountain with those brothers; I do not wish to even imagine what that must have been like, but one thing is for certain; she grew up mean and she knew how to fight, how to hurt a person, and how to use her 4' 11" 120lbs to do damage. Her temper was short and she was fast to react in a violent physical nature. She was married to Frank who was from Kentucky. Frank ran a laundry delivery service, smoked cigars, and loved pro wrestling. He was already in his forties when I was adopted as was Opal. Frank was amazing to me as a young child but as time went on he became isolated and didn't much bother with anything other than work. Looking back it is obvious he was terribly unhappy but that is unfortunately the theme of this story. I also had three adopted sisters that we shall call Kay, Mary, and Carry. All of whom were already 10 and older once I was brought into the household. The six of us lived in a two bedroom single bath home on the south side of Indianapolis. My earliest memory is literally the day that they brought me to their house; you may think that is crazy, a child less than a year old having a vivid memory but I swear to you I do. I remember being brought into the kitchen and being placed into a high chair with a pack of saltines....then a bath and to bed. For the first few years it seemed that we had a happy, perfect family. Frank made good money and so Opal stayed home and managed the house while watching me. I remember how nice she was at first but that would soon change, everything changed. The early eighties were a rough time economically and it showed. The stress of life really brought out the mean in Opal, she would fly off the handle in a millisecond flat. I was a very advanced child for my age and by pre-school I could count to 1000, read children's books myself, and I knew all my shapes and colors beyond the standard "circle, square, blue, red". My adopted parents were not very well educated and I think they were taken aback by the rate at which I absorbed information. It could not possibly be that this child simply has a thirst for knowledge and an ability to process things; it must be DEMONS...yep, folks, demons. From the time I was maybe 3 until I stopped speaking to Opal circa 1999 I was repeatedly told that I was "FULL OF DEMONS" as well as the everpopular"YOU ARE GOING TO HELL FOR _________" Now you can add whatever you wish to that blank up there because she sure did. I was going to hell for running in the house, catching insects, not going to bed on time, throwing rocks, playing with sticks, you name it, and he'll was fucking terrifying. I was taken to churches where people preached that the devil was not among us , but inside of us all!!! and as I watched them shake and scream and yell it honestly scared the shit out of me. Being a developing child and being told you are possessed by creatures from hell may have a lasting mental effect. Like many kids I began to rebel against and since I was full of demons I began to act accordingly. Things in the household spiraled downward like a toy boat circling an open drain. Opal was becoming aloof and isolated, coming from her bedroom only to cuss, complain, and rage. After the first few times getting my ass or face slapped up I learned to shut my mouth but unfortunately my older adopted sister Mary never got that lesson. She was about early high school age when I was adopted but I do not remember either of my two oldest sisters going to school at all. She like rock music of the time, she didn't dress appropriately, she was loud, and she did not listen to anything she was told. She was a typical teen girl in the 80's until she snuck out one night and some men snuck PCP into her drink. She had a bad reaction and seized, they just dumped her from the car onto a cold, dark Indianapolis street corner in the middle of a ghetto where she lay until found. She was rushed to the hospital where she died and was revived many time; luckily she lived, but she had went without oxygen and it left her with some mental impairment. She never really progressed past a teen mentality. I do not know if it was shame at her sneaking out with men and being discovered or the lingering mental illness but Opal had a fire for her like no other. They once had a shouting match over what Mary was wearing and after a few minutes Opal picked up an old golf wedge club that I had found and began to beat her savagely. I counted at least 30 shots before I got the courage to jump in from of her; I was maybe 8 years old. The following years would show a pattern of such actions with all four of us occasionally getting it but Mary and myself got the brunt of things...there were hot off the stove spatulas to bare skin, broomsticks, rake handles, and even the cast iron skillet with hot oil still inside. My father, having been introduced to Opal's violent nature knew better than to intervene, choosing to withdraw all together of the situation. Left to free rein Opal never missed an opportunity to abuse physically, or verbally. I remember being perhaps 9-10 years old and being as my parernts were way older I dressed like I was from the 60's,. Opal had since went to work at a metal polishing factory and I was left to the daily care of three teenage, adopted sister with no clue about basic hygiene so I smelled terrible and the stress of my violent home life had put weight on me other kids fucked with me hardcore. I had had a terrible day at school; my pants had ripped and all the other kids were laughing and calling me fatass and such literally all day long. So I get home finally and I totally break down into hesterical crying fits to which my "mother" responds to be yelling "BOY!!....WHAT IS ALL THE NOISE ABOUT!!?!" and through tears and in broken English I struggled to explain the events of the day and how all the kids said I "stink and that my clothes were trash and that I was too fat!!" and her caring response was to look me dead in my eyes and yell to me "YOU ARE FAT AND I AM NOT BUYING YOU NEW CLOTHES UNTIL YOU LOSE SOME WEIGHT!!" This event would truly cast a demon of hatred and anger deep into my soul that I would struggle to shake for the next 20 or more years. The next day at school, on recess a group of slightly younger children began to gather around me and began the usual verbal and physical harassment. As they had a few days previous they were attempting to set me up for that trick where one person gets down in a dog-like pose behind you while you are distracted and once in place the other push you over and everyone has a grand old laugh at your expense while you struggle to get your fat ass off the ground and get your wind back but that day I was not playing that shit and so when the little fucker ducked down behind me I immediately swung around with my right foot and landed a vicious snap kick directly to his eye socket; the sound of it breaking echoed the playground followed by painful wailing. It felt good to hear, it felt good to see the fear in the eyes of his friend's eyes, to send a message that I was no longer their victim or anyone else's for that matter. I started skipping school, vandalizing, petty theft, shoplifting, and anything other than wholesome which got me arrested for stealing CD's and Transformers from K-Mart. L.L. Cool J.....funny the shit you value when you look in retrospect. The ride home from the juvenile center on East 21st street was a long one and I was petrified of the beating that awaited me as new and different ways and items to beat the fuck from me danced in my head like those fucking sugar-plums from that stupid Christmas Song. When we finally got back to our house in Fountain Square I was directed into the kitchen where a length of 2/4 about 2 foot long waited on the kitchen table. Opal from behind me yelled out "BOY!!" which was what I was always referenced as as if I had no fucking name and when I did a 180 she belted me across my face with a hard right fist, but unlike every other time she hit me I did not scream out, cry, or even flinch from the blow. This further infuriated her and so she struck my face again to the same result, and again, and again until I firmly grabbed her right wrist at which point she immediately hit me with a hard left and I subsequently grabbed her left wrist. I was about 175lbs if not more and my strength overpowered her ability to strike me and when she realized that she could not move and seen in my eyes that this was not going to happen she began to scream "LET GO OF ME!!" to which I replied "I am going to let you go and when I do you are not going to fucking touch me in any way!!"...I let go, and defeated she walked away. After that she offered no real support other than a place to sleep. I began to steal clothing from people's clotheslines and after wearing the same pair of shoes for so long that my feet are literally deformed, I took a pair of Nikes off of someone's porch. Over the next few years I would have many more legal troubles, assaults, thefts, arsons until the State of Indiana stepped in and made me a ward of the state. I was sentenced and sent to a place called Glen Mills Schools in Concordville, Pennsylvania. It was supposed to be a fresh start and a chance to better myself and I was able to get my HSE, learn computer aided drafting, and I got to compete in powerlifting as well. It was the first time in my life I had seen a dentist even; I was 15 years old and finally I felt hopeful and happy; that would soon change.
If you would like to hear more please leave a comment or like. I also appreciate any feedback about my writing as I am not a professional in any way but always looking to improve my craft. If you made it this far; you are greatly appreciated.

Hi there, I’m Tim from NC, 6’1 height wise, lean, active and Asian. I have dark hair with deep brown eyes that you can get lost in when looking up in it. I work in healthcare but when I’m not in the office I enjoy going on hikes, photography, watch/play sports as well as gaming and binge watching shows. I can be fairly active outdoors but also enjoy some downtime indoors.
I’m a laid back kind of guy but can be very strict during sessions so I will put you in your place when needed. Some of my primary kinks are DD/LG, Dom/Sub, breeding, rough, CNC, degrading dirty talk, name calling, roleplay, oral, anal, collaleash, teasing, orgasm control, cumplay, light impact play, petplay, roping and more. I highly value aftercare and will spoil you with attention making sure you feel belong and loved.
What I’m seeking is a partner who is easy to talk to, open minded, who shares similar interest and of course a good girl who wants to be bred and have offsprings. I enjoy a healthy lifestyle, both diet and being active which will provide our children with great genes. Hoping to find my breeding partner who can provide me with plenty of offsprings as possible.

Hello, I am an American girl who is a gentle and considerate woman looking for a sincere and kind friend. I believe that there is a wide world of like-minded people in which we can explore the beauty of life together and build a true friendship. First of all, let me introduce myself. I am a nature lover with a passion for art and culture. I love walking in nature, enjoying beautiful landscapes, going to art exhibitions, concerts or reading a good book. I value family and friendship and respect the opinions and independence of others. I am looking for a friend who is genuinely friendly, upbeat and positive. I believe that true friendship is based on mutual understanding, respect and support. I want us to be able to listen to each other, share our joys and sorrows and have a good time together. Whether it's a cup of coffee, a walk and a talk, or an activity and exploring a new hobby together, I look forward to it. If you too are looking for a genuine female friend who is willing to share their lives and moods with each other, please do not hesitate to contact me. I look forward to building a great friendship with you and creating great memories and experiences together. Preferably over 35 years old If you are interested in my post, please feel free to get in touch with me via private message. Let's start a special journey of friendship together!

“My energy kinetic, the fitted hat by Ebbets. Yessir. DJ Drama. Yeah.”
“I like sugar, I like sweets, I don't like the spicy eats. I need bridges in my beats and Campana Brothers seats. The heaven part for me is knowin' I can. Wake up when I'm finished with my sleep, ain't no kids to feed. No stress I bleed, I don't got a boss. I go wherever and don't care 'bout the cost. Gas money was stark for me, uh. Now I got so many cars I could start up. We nappin' in parks, we in the sun gettin' darked up. Chillin' with my suit on. Travel trunk is either Moynat leather or it's Vuitton. Sippin' mint tea like we know the tree the leaf fell from. We come from them tiki punch drinks. Had animosity for dinner, El Pollo Loco. That was in the past, now I parmesan my bolo'. Half a million driftin' and the tire readin' "Toyo". Prefer the alligator logo on my cotton polo. Livin' it up, my nggas is up. Y'all nggas is salty peanuts, we ain't givin' a fuck. 'Cause I'm blessed as hell and I ain't next to jail. Ain't got no psyche hiccups, plus I dress this well. My heaven 24/7, that's heaven.”
“That's heaven to me, yeah. What's heaven to you? Yeah. That's heaven to me, yeah. What's heaven to you, to y'all? Because that's heaven to me, aw-aw. You gotta love it.”
I had trouble sleeping that morning. I woke up at 3 AM. I woke up sweating, I instantly went up to get some water to drink. I then took ten minutes to open the pain of an ass window that I have in my bedroom.
I assumed that it must’ve been my meds that kept me awake. On the second day I started taking them, I was up until 3 AM. I slept for another hour at some point. I gave up on trying to sleep once it was 6 AM. I took a shower. Not because I wanted to wake myself up, but to get myself ready for work.
I got to work around 10 AM, luckily didn’t deal with the stranger from the day before. I was going to work a lunch buffet at my new job. I’ve done those before, but it’s much more people than Im usually used to. I’ve met some more servers, and I kept ‘training.’ It’s pretty much what I’m used to, but I have a feeling that things are a bit more disorganized.
With my uncle and brother, we pretty much have a strict way on doing things. But nearly everyone here kinda does their own way of doing things. It still gets the job done, but it would be nice if there was a way of doing things.
I was shocked by how the servers were making it more difficult to work by bringing all the plates to the back with their own hands instead of using trays to carry everything.
Doing the buffet wasn’t difficult, well, the only really difficult part being the guests who can be picky. Or the guests who are being smartasses by ignoring me whenever I asked if they’re finished with their plate. It went pretty well though, my supervisor (the family friend who got me the job) seems to be happy with my work so far. He mentioned how I work similar to him, which was a big compliment, I’ve heard from many about how my father was one of the best employees. He also says I resemble my father a lot, but I don’t really see it. People usually say my brother is the one who looks like him. I’m the one that’s the most like my father the good and the bad. I’m pretty sure my mom has even noticed.
I ended up clocking out at around 2 PM. I didn’t actually get home until 4 PM since my manager wanted to speak to me about getting me a schedule. I get to pick any of the shifts I want to work, which is very nice. I soon went on my way home.
I then got an email. “Camp Flog Gnaw Carnival returns to Dodger Stadium November 11-12, 2023.”
Shit. I might actually have a chance to go. I return from Japan on November 8. The original plan was to head home through taking a flight from LA to here since it would save more money. But fuck… I might change my plans.
November 8 is just literal days away from Camp Flog Gnaw. I started thinking of a plan until I noticed my best friend had the same thought once he started messaging me about the news. I was probably making a rushed decision that could cause some consequences. But I was listening to No More Parties In LA, so could you blame me.
Once I started thinking about the lineup that could possibly show up, and the surprise guests that could possibly show up. Tyler is definitely going to be there. Kendrick Lamar and Baby Keem are pretty much confirmed. There’s a good chance Steve Lacy might be there. I was pretty much sold on the idea once I let my imagination running, especially since I originally planned on going to both Kendrick and Steve’s tours last year, but both were sold out.
Shit, it was an easy decision. I’ll be chilling in LA for a bit until the festival. Fuck, I guess I’m going to be having to save NMPILA for my SOTD when I actually arrive to LA in November. I’m hyped.
I should be good with my family about it. I never exactly told him how much time I’d be gone. So this could work in my favor.
I then got home and instantly ordered some shit for me to eat because I was starving and didn’t feel like making myself something to eat. I then started doing my laundry before heading to the shower since I needed it.
I was actually going to game a bit with my new friend until my father and his girlfriend came in. I was about to bite into my food as well. Nearly screamed into my pillow for a moment once his girlfriend pretty much demanded that we go to Costco. Pretty sure I might’ve upsetted my friend once I told her that I won’t be able to play mortal kombat, so that’s nice.
So we went to Costco. I bought some sandals that didn’t even end up fitting me. I would return them, but I lost my fucking receipt at some point before I got home. I bought this very nice button up. I also bought some groceries as well, the usual stuff my family eats.
I didn’t really do much after that besides actually getting some time to rest. I finally got a chance to eat. I then finished my laundry. I didn’t really do much besides watching some more Boardwalk Empire, I’m reaching the end of season 3. I then finished up my journal, which ended up being one of my longer ones in months. It was a nice surprise. Today was a decent day.
Song Of The Day: Tyler The Creator - HEAVEN TO ME

I'm looking for a girl who wants sex the bare and natural way. I'll cum inside you in the heat of the moment. I'm a sensual guy who believes the best sex should be raw and intimate. I love to touch and caress you and make you feel good. So let's forget about condoms and feel each other skin on skin and go for it. I'd love to meet up regularly and have an FWB if we enjoy our first time together. I'm from San Jose can meet in Palo Alto.

I’m a white girl called Abi in a rural and traditional village in Hungary. I’m living simple life here with hobbies like cooking and baking and reading but I also love to be outdoors and do camping, boat and raft driving and hiking! I am super social and love the village gatherings as well.
I only go to the city four times a year every season. I like to eat junk food whenever I’m there because here we eat very organic and healthy food. I love healthy food, but junk food can be fun a couple times a year right? Haha!
What I’m looking for: Someone thats interested (just like me!) in culture, religions, traditions, ceremonies and customs. But also if you like nature, outdoor, food and desserts, we will vibe most likely! In my culture there is so many things that are different. Some people might say it is insane or outdated or even worse and all of those things. But they don’t look at the positive outcomes and the prove that it works! For example how our marriage works here, how life is run, how genders love to be living accordingly to their roles and more.
Our village is a couple hundred people long and spread across grasslands and forests around us. It’s secluded, silent, peaceful and calming! However, sometimes as you can guess… lonely. Even though I love the wonderful community here.
Thank-you for reading this far and if you did, please send me a message starting with your favorite ice cream flavor :)
I’m asking you (if you’re interested) to write me an intro. Make it a bit mid sized to long sized because I’m all about equal effort! Please let me know what a good way to get to know each other is. I’m new and have no idea other than just chatting randomly but maybe you have an idea?…
I don’t mind your race, color, nationality, religion, age and anything like that! Oh and be open minded if that wasn’t clear already hihi :)
Abi - wishing you a lovely upcoming week!
:>

okay so everyone hi, hope y'all having a good day and if you're not it's gonna be alright. i said that and i say that to many people but i never have a good day and i feel like im suffering from something that I dunno what it is. so when i was small i used to talk to myself a lot as i was a single child, i got love from my parents but it was less i always got scolded and was compared to other other kids as I was not good at anything and was a silent kid overall. in my school i used to get bullied a lot and it got bad to a point where I used to skip school and just stay at home and for that i would get scolding from my parents for skipping school, it was mentally tiring and exhausting. i was called austistic and fat as I was a fat kid none of the guys talked to me everyone made fun of me but some would feel bad as I was a silent kid and would never say a word back i would just to listen to what they said and hold it within me. years passed i still talked to myself and things started to get worse, my parents started fighting and my dad beat my mother in front of me and it just made me loose my respect for my parents and everyday since then my dad started drinking and my mom talks rarely to dad, i tried to solve but i really didn't try as i didn't know what to say and how to solve a problem. later after school and bullying for the past 12 years i got into college and also before that i really liked a girl in school she called me fat and ugly so it broke me soo much that I didn't eat for a week and my parents were fighting, yeah college it was good as I never experienced that bullying or anything i actually felt loved for the first time and that transitional shift still doesn't feel real to me, and guess what now i have a girlfriend and I'm extremely lucky to have her despite all the things i went through it and i really don't know what to say or talk with her on a daily basis i don't know i feel lost everyday when I'm with her she knows I've been through a lot but i just don't know how to take care of her and everything like this feels soo new i really don't know what is real and what is fake everything i. my life feels like a dream i feel like I'm going through something i really wanna see a psychiatrist and ask what's wrong with me but i really can't afford to see one i feel soo lost i really wanna know what's wrong with me the emotional trauma or is it normal please help guys

If you want more of that go watch feel good hit videos during the era tour

I’m a white girl called Abi in a rural and traditional village in Hungary. I’m living simple life here with hobbies like cooking and baking and reading but I also love to be outdoors and do camping, boat and raft driving and hiking! I am super social and love the village gatherings as well.
I only go to the city four times a year every season. I like to eat junk food whenever I’m there because here we eat very organic and healthy food. I love healthy food, but junk food can be fun a couple times a year right? Haha!
What I’m looking for: Someone thats interested (just like me!) in culture, religions, traditions, ceremonies and customs. But also if you like nature, outdoor, food and desserts, we will vibe most likely! In my culture there is so many things that are different. Some people might say it is insane or outdated or even worse and all of those things. But they don’t look at the positive outcomes and the prove that it works! For example how our marriage works here, how life is run, how genders love to be living accordingly to their roles and more.
Our village is a couple hundred people long and spread across grasslands and forests around us. It’s secluded, silent, peaceful and calming! However, sometimes as you can guess… lonely. Even though I love the wonderful community here.
Thank-you for reading this far and if you did, please send me a message starting with your favorite ice cream flavor :)
I’m asking you (if you’re interested) to write me an intro. Make it a bit mid sized to long sized because I’m all about equal effort! Please let me know what a good way to get to know each other is. I’m new and have no idea other than just chatting randomly but maybe you have an idea?…
I don’t mind your race, color, nationality, religion, age and anything like that! Oh and be open minded if that wasn’t clear already hihi :)
Abi - wishing you a lovely upcoming week!
:>

I noticed this, funnily enough, when I saw a twitter post where someone asked Eduard Habsburg (Hungarian ambassador to the Holy See, and member of the House of Habsburg-Lothringen, obviously) to comment on a commission of a girl drawn in anime style in attempted period-accurate marshal's getup from the WWI Empire; the Ambassador replied that it was very good, except that, emphatically, women did and do not wear the Golden Fleece.
This got my interest and I started doing some looking into it; first I was a little confused in that there are women in the Order, as Elizabeth II of England was one and Margrethe II of Denmark, Beatrix of the Netherlands, and Leonor of Asturias are in it now, before noting that they've got two branches.
Still, as I understand it from the surface level information out there, the mere idea of a woman being in the chain of command for the order, let alone being part of it, was... highly, highly contentious for quite some time, including after the split occurred. And yet, here one half of the order hands it out relatively freely to notable noble women now.
So in general, I'm looking to learn more about the divergence of the two halves of the Order since the split, since the information isn't readily available, and I'm hoping to run into someone who's got the sort of encyclopedic knowledge about these sorts of things that I do about my special interests and is willing to run off what they know (or, yknow, is willing to crack open some materials they have access to). In particular I'm looking to learn about when/how the Spanish order has opened up to women, and why the Austrians have not (and if there's been any discussion thereof), but a general info dump would not be unwelcome either just in case any of y'all wanna gush about your special interest (I know how it is).

I'm looking for a good morale system that applies to PCs/Hirelings/Enemies, preferably equally.
The only one I'm familiar with is a standard roll vs. save type, and I have concerns about this...
Mainly that I don't like how PCs are just left with shitty debuffs if they fail a random roll for what might be an entire combat, it's like stunning a PC for the whole combat, which results in them going "wow, sure glad I came out to play tonight to not play".
I'm looking for more something that might be a kind of manageable resource type of thing, it might have a roll involved, but I see morale as having both offering buffs and debuffs and I'd like players to have more agency than a single die roll on this.
I have some ideas, in that they might be able to use a meta currency to reroll, but I'm still trying to find something a bit different.
Context:
The game is about Black Ops Super Soldiers with various enhancements who work for a PMSC in a 5 minutes into the future cyberpunk dystopia alt earth sort of environment. Generally they will be operating covertly, but the possibility of warfare and mass combat is absolutely on the table as a game need and I need to be able to manage this kind of situation.
I have a ton of status effects that could play into this sort of thing, but I want to try and find a way for PCs to manage this more effectively than just random die roll decides they are screwed.
The reason I particularly hate these roll vs save is because they don't particularly make context relevant.
IE, if you've survived three tours in afghanistan you're less likely to be surprised when your buddy is blown in half right next to you. If you fought cthulian mythos monsters before, they are less likely to have as dramatic an effect, and while a civilian might be scared of a junkie thug with a knife, our super soldiers absolutely should not be without additional context (ie maybe they have their loved one as a hostage or something).
I'm just trying to find a way to make this work.
If you have free links to other systems that do this well, please let me know, if not please describe, if it's worth looking into I'll definitely consider a purchase for research.

SEPTEMBER HOME VIDEO RELEASES
https://www.sentaifilmworks.com/a/news/sentai-september-2023-releases-are-coming-prepare-your-wallets-for-new-anime-blu-rays
September 5, 2023
Call of the Night
September 19
Girls und Panzer TV + OVA
Utano Princesama Maji Love Starish Tours
September 26
Gatchaman
Lupin Zero

Hello everyone! It's been a week since my last post on how Sapphire logic makes my outfits feel inauthentic. I've gotten some good advice on that post and I have been able to reflect and play around with the different style logics. After my last post I thought for a while that I might be a Ruby afterall because of that need for authenticity. But I think that is something that all the quadrants need and want but they get there differently. So I decided to stop overthinking and instead go back to the basic style logic differences.
After writing down the differences for myself and actually trying to apply them in my shopping process and my daily outfit selection I quickly realized that the left is not where it's at for me. Asking myself what internal qualities, moods or landscapes I want to connect with is like staring into the abyss: there is not much there 😅 By that I mean my main answers to these questions are "I don't know" or "I feel neutral", aka not very inspiring. But even when I try really hard to come up with something internal to connect to it never really feels good. I need that outside starting point as an anchor, otherwise I feel completely lost. Also, what I noticed when I asked myself what qualities within me I want to connect with or what mood I was in is that my brain constantly tried to connect the answer to the situation, so for me it's not about how I feel today despite of the situation but rather how I want to feel in my situation.
So I settled on the right quadrants. But I still wasn't sure about RU vs. RD. I have always considered myself a person that enjoys visual interest and bold looks. And when I had my talk with Rita 2 years ago one theme was definitely how the visual interest was missing from my clothes and how boring and bland they felt (I mean, I think anyone would feel bland in a basic black t-shirt with basic black pants and no details what so ever). That was probably another reason why she placed me in the RU, but again that was before style logics existed. I decided not to cling to the idea that I have to be a Sapphire because Rita suggested it to me but rather to try out the different logics and see which one brings me more joy and is more efficient for me. The main difference between Moonstone and Sapphire is that Moonstone asks herself "What do I need in my outfit to feel good in this situation? How do I want to feel?" while Sapphire asks herself "What's my intention in this situation? What impression or contribution do I want to make here? How do I want to come across?".
I decided to incorporate both of these approaches in my process of shopping for summer clothes since I'm in desperate need for a few new pieces. And what I noticed is that the Sapphire approach feels a lot more negative for me than the Moonstone approach does. I don't want to focus on the impression I'm making on others, I have been doing that for the past few years and it never got me anywhere. It's not helpful for me to ask myself "How do I want to come across during this uni presentation", it just feels wrong and inauthentic and makes me feel quite insecure. BUT when I turn the question to the inside and ask myself instead "How can my clothes support me during this uni presentation, how do I want to feel?" it's like coming home! For me, it's so much more rewarding to focus on my needs instead of creating a certain impression on the outside world. I don't care if other people see me a certain way, I care about feeling a certain way.
So the Moonstone logic is really the most rewarding and efficient way to get dressed for me and to enjoy the process. It's like everything just clicked into place! I was hesitant to claim this quadrant because I suspect my best friend is a RD Moonstone and I have a tendency to negatively compare myself to other people and find myself lacking as in "I'm not delicate and refined enough to be a Moonstone" or something like that. I was also unsure if I was "allowed" to claim a different quadrant for myself than the one Rita suggested for me, even though I know Rita is fine with that 😅 But that's just my internal critic being a mean girl. And instead of listening to that negative inner voice telling me I'm not "graceful" and "delicate" enough to be a Moonstone, I will just trust the style logic. So Moonstone it is! 😊

As I will never tire of pointing out, it's my belief that (seemingly endless) 'rhyming' recurrence is baked-in to and at the core of the Song we're reading — ASOIAF — as is foregrounded in A Feast For Crows, when Arianne explains House Toland's sigil to Ser Arys Oakheart by telling him "all things come round again". (AFFC The Soiled Knight)
We see this in the countless 'rhymes' between ASOIAF's invented histories (as conveyed in AWOIAF and Fire & Blood) and ASOIAF proper, and in the parallels and 'rhyming' reversals between the storylines and characters of ASOIAF and one another, which follow and extrapolate on the formula laid out for us when Areo Hotah foregrounds the 'rhyme' between himself and the aforemention Ser Arys:

The white knight. The captain frowned. Ser Arys had come to Dorne to attend his own princess, as Areo Hotah had once come with his. Even their names sounded oddly alike: Areo and Arys. Yet there the likeness ended. The captain had left Norvos and its bearded priests, but Ser Arys Oakheart still served the Iron Throne. (AFFC The Captain of Guards)

Here I want to dedicate a post solely to drawing attention to one such 'rhyme' — a 'rhyme' I've frequently pointed out in passing in service of this or that 'greater' point.
I want to talk about the fact that Quellon Greyjoy is very clearly written so as to seem "Hoare-ish": to be a Lord of the Iron Islands who recalls in various ways everything we're told about the Hoare kings of the Iron Islands.

The "Quellon Greyjoy" of A World of Ice & Fire

Consider first everything AWOIAF tells us about Quellon Greyjoy:

Near the end of Haereg's great work you will come to Lord Quellon Greyjoy, the wisest of the men to sit the Seastone Chair since Aegon's Conquest. A huge man, six and a half feet tall, he was said to be as strong as an ox and as quick as a cat. In his youth he earned renown as a warrior, fighting corsairs and slavers in the Summer Sea. A leal servant of the Iron Throne, he led a hundred longships around the bottom of Westeros during the War of the Ninepenny Kings and played a crucial role in the fighting around the Stepstones.
As lord, however, Quellon preferred to walk the road of peace. He forbade reaving, save by his leave. He brought maesters to the Iron Islands by the score, to serve as healers to the sick and tutors to the young; with them came their ravens, whose black wings would tie the isles to the green lands tighter than ever before.
It was Lord Quellon who freed the remaining thralls and outlawed the practice of thralldom on the Iron Islands (in this he was not wholly successful). And whilst he took no salt wives himself, he allowed other men to do so but taxed them heavily for the privilege. Quellon Greyjoy sired nine sons on three wives. His first and second wives were rock wives, joined to him with the old rites by a priest of the Drowned God, but his last bride was a woman of the green lands, a Piper of Pinkmaiden Castle, wed to him in her father's hall by a septon.
In this, as in much else, Lord Quellon turned away from the ancient and insular traditions of the ironborn, in hopes of forging stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. So strong a lord was Quellon Greyjoy that few dared speak openly against him, for he was known to be strong-willed and stubborn and fearsome in his wroth.

In short, Quellon Grejoy pretty much acted exactly like the historic kings of House Hoare.
How so?

Wives & The Faith

Where the Hoares "took maidens of [Andal] ilk to wife" and were proclaimed "ungodly" by the priests of the Drowned God for (among other things) tolerating and even welcoming the Faith of the Seven to the Iron Islands, Quellon not only wed a non-ironborn maiden of House Piper of the (formerly Hoare-ruled) Riverlands, but was wed to her by a septon of the Faith "in her father's hall" on mainland Westeros (rather than on the "holy islands" of the ironborn). These actions were surely seen as "ungodly" by the priests of the Drowned God.

Anti-Reaving & Pro Cultural and/or Commercial Exchange

Quellon "forbade reaving, save by his leave". Sounds like the Hoares:

The Hoare kings… discouraged the practice of reaving. And as reaving declined, trade grew. (TWOIAF)

(No, we're not explicitly told that "trade grew" under Quellon, but it is pretty much impossible to conclude that it didn't, given that Quellon was dedicated to "forging stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms" and to "[tying] the isles to the green lands tighter than ever before".)

Bringing In Outsiders

When Quellon "brought maesters to the Iron Islands by the score", it was an echo of the Hoares opening the Islands to the septons of the Faith:

[I]t was under the Hoares that the Faith of the Andals came to the Iron Islands for the first time. (TWOIAF)

Thralls & Salt Wives

Quellon "freed the remaining thralls and outlawed the practice of thralldom", while taking no salt wives and "heavily" taxing those who did.
Both the substance and verbiage of these policies 'rhyme' with those of Handsome Harmund Hoare, who banned reaving, "outlawed" salt wives and was about to "end the practice of thralldom" when he was overthrown by a priest-led rebellion. (TWOIAF)

Fearsome In Their Wroth

Quellon probably wasn't loved by all for his liberal policies, given the widespread influence of the Priests of Drowned God and the deep-seated ironborn predilcection for reaving and war, but…

…few dared speak openly against him, for he was known to be strong-willed and stubborn and fearsome in his wroth. (TWOIAF)

This, too, compares neatly with the Hoares:

Few of their subjects ever loved them, but many had good reason to fear their wroth. (TWOIAF)

Quellon & Qhorwyn Hoare

We're told that Quellon was "the wisest of the men to sit the Seastone Chair since Aegon's Conquest". Since the Hoares, then.
We're told that wise Lord Quellon raised taxes, "forg[ed] stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms" (surely entailing trade), and "spent most of his long reign avoiding war".
In these things he clearly 'rhymes' with "shrewd" (see: "wise"), "avaricious" (see: raising taxes) Qhorwyn Hoare, who "spent his entire reign… avoiding war":

A shrewd and avaricious king, Qhorwyn had spent his entire reign accumulating wealth and avoiding war. "War is bad for trade," he said….

Where King Qhorywn said "War is bad", but spent heavily preparing for it just in case, Quellon fought in "the War of the Ninepenny Kings" (get it? a war named after money…) but "as lord… preferred to walk the road of peace."

Forging Stronger — Hoare-ish — Bonds

Consider again the line about Quellon "forging stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms":

Lord Quellon turned away from the ancient and insular traditions of the ironborn, in hopes of forging stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. (TWOIAF)

That line 'just so happens' to neatly embody the sigil of House Hoare, which depicts literal forged bonds — silver chains, like the "forged" chain of a maester, bound to serve — connecting symbols of the Arbor, Oldtown, Bear Island and the Iron Islands: that is, visually embodying the connection of and ties between the Iron Islands "and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms", so to speak.

'Rhyming' Youths

The one line describing Quellon's youth—

In his youth he earned renown as a warrior, fighting corsairs and slavers in the Summer Sea. (TWOIAF)

—'rhymes' with Qhorwyn Hoare's son Harwyn Hardhand's youth from TWOIAF:

A belligerent boy by all accounts, and third in the succession, Harwyn Hoare was sent to sea at an early age. He sailed with a succession of reavers in the Stepstones, visited Volantis, Tyrosh, and Braavos, became a man in the pleasure gardens of Lys, spent two years in the Basilisk Isles as a captive of a pirate king, sold his sword to a free company in the Disputed Lands, and fought in several battles as a Second Son.

• "In his youth he earned renown as a warrior" → "a belligerent boy by all accounts"
  warrior → belligerent; youth → boy; renown → by all accounts
  
• "In his youth he earned renown as a warrior" → "at an early age" he "sold his sword… and fought in several battles"
  
• "fighting corsairs and slavers in the Summer Sea" → "sailed with… reavers in the Stepstones", "captive of a pirate king in the Basilisk Isles", "fought… as a Second Son"
  fighting → fought; corsairs → reavers + pirates; slavers → captive; SS → SS
  

But where "As lord… Quellon preferred to walk the road of peace" (like Qhorwyn), as King Qhorwyn's son…

Harwyn had no use for peace, but much and more for the arms and armor that his father forged.

Qhorwyn's Son & Quellon's Sons

Qhorwyn's son Harwyn was in that respect just like Quellon's son Balon, then, the story of whose youth is told in a manner whose form/structure is borrowed for Harwyn's story, above:

Balon the eldest and boldest, a fierce and fearless boy who lived only to restore the ironborn to their ancient glory. At ten he scaled the Flint Cliffs to the Blind Lord's haunted tower. At thirteen he could run a longship's oars and dance the finger dance as well as any man in the isles. At fifteen he had sailed with Dagmer Cleftjaw to the Stepstones and spent a summer reaving. He slew his first man there and took his first two salt wives. At seventeen Balon captained his own ship. (AFFC The Prophet)

At the same time the details of Qhorwyn's third son Harwyn's time spent abroad in Essos feel like they're also a recursive, 'rhyming' iteration of Quellon's third surviving son Euron's exile to Essos. (Where Harwyn was captive of a pirate king before returning home to overthrow his older brothers, Euron, a king who looks like a stereotypical "pirate" and who likely was "The Corsair King", seemingly overthrows his older brother and takes his brother Aeron captive.)
Qhorwyn's eldest son died of greyscale:

When Harwyn returned to the Iron Islands, he found his father Qhorwyn dying, and his eldest brother two years dead from greyscale.

Quellon's eldest son was likewise dying of greyscale—

Nine sons had been born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, the Lord of the Iron Islands. Harlon, Quenton, and Donel had been born of Lord Quellon's first wife, a woman of the Stonetrees. … Harlon [the eldest] he recalled but dimly, sitting grey-faced and still in a windowless tower room and speaking in whispers that grew fainter every day as the greyscale turned his tongue and lips to stone. (AFFC The Prophet)

—when Quellon's third surviving son Euron murdered him, recalling the fratricidal treachery that brought Qhorwyn's third son Hardhand to power:

A second brother still stood between Harwyn and the crown, and his sudden death even as the king was breathing his last remains a matter of dispute to this day. Those present at Prince Harlan's passing all declared his death accidental, the result of a fall from his horse, but of course it would have been worth their lives to suggest otherwise. Beyond the Iron Islands, it was widely assumed that Prince Harwyn was behind his brother's demise. Some claimed he had done the deed himself, others that Prince Harlan had been slain by a Faceless Man of Braavos. (TWOIAF)

That story of Harwyn's fratricidal treachery toward his older brother is also clearly contrived to 'rhyme' with what we've been told about Euron killing Balon to take power, right down to the older brother dying in a fall and the rumors that a Faceless Man was involved.
The detail about the brother dying "even as the king was breathing his last" reworks Euron murdering Harlon by "pinch[ing] his nose shut" so he could not breath. (TWOW The Forgotten)
The way Qhorwyn Hoare died "even as" his son died a "sudden death" 'rhymes' with Quellon's wife dying even "as the midwife drew a stillborn daughter from her womb". (The phrase "sudden death" evokes "sudden infant death syndrome".)

Summing Up TWOIAF & Its Hoare-esque Quellon

So clearly Quellon Greyjoy as described in TWOIAF is is blatantly Hoare-esque, not just because his policies recall (both in their substance and in how they are written about) those of the Hoare Kings but even inasmuch as certain actions of his children evoke the actions of Qhorwyn Hoare's Hoare sons. And clearly we're supposed to notice this.

The "Quellon Greyjoy" of ASOIAF Proper Is Also Hoare-esque. Or Rather: A Bit Whore-esque

If TWOIAF makes it abundantly clear that Quellon was Hoare-esque, AFFC makes it abundantly clear that Quellon was nothing if not a prolific sperm cannon, siring nine sons on three different wives:

Nine sons had been born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, the Lord of the Iron Islands. (AFFC The Prophet)
Nine sons had been born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, but only four had lived to manhood. (AFFC The Prophet)
Nine sons had been born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, and Victarion was the strongest of them, a bull of a man, fearless and dutiful. (AFFC The Prophet)
Nine sons were born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, and I was the least of them, as weak and frightened as a girl. (AFFC The Prophet)
"Nine sons were born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy. One was mightier than all the rest, and knew no fear." (AFFC The Drowned Man)

It would seem that Quellon Greyjoy liked to have sex rather a lot . . . which might make him seem (to someone not perversely committed to language-policing in the name of said sex-positivity [or whatever]) like something of a whore (or 'man-whore' or whatever).
And thus it turns out that what we're told about Quellon in ASOIAF proper in its own way paints Quellon as every bit the figurative Hoare/whore that AWOIAF does.

Why Paint Quellon As A 'Hoare'/'Whore'?

The question, of course, is "to what end?"
Is it just a little joke? 'Ha ha, Quellon is Hoare-ish and whore-ish', and that's all there is to it?
One thing I will note apropos of that question: ASOIAF loves to use the term "whoreson". Once we're aware of the existence of House Hoare, though, the term makes us think of Hoare sons.
Could Quellon be a Hoare son, of sorts?
While we can presume Quellon's father was a Greyjoy, we have no idea who his mother was. Regardless of her family name, might she have descended from House Hoare, making Quellon a Hoare-ish Hoare son? Was she a Volmark? The Volmarks descend from Qhorwyn Hoare's daughteHardhand Hoare's sister—

Qhorin Volmark, a minor lord on Harlaw, was the first man to claim the kingship [after Aegon's conquest]. His grandmother had been a younger sister of Harwyn Hardhand. On the basis of that tie, Volmark declared himself the rightful heir of "the black line." (TWOIAF)

—and some say they are the "true heir[s] of the black line" of House Hoare:

"Tarle the Thrice-Drowned was heard to say that Maron Volmark is the true heir of the black line." (AFFC The Iron Captain)
Volmark is a callow boy, but he has Black Harren's blood in him through his mother. (AFFC The Reaver)

(It's unclear whether Victarion is thinking that Volmark's mother is a Hoare, or whether he is confusing and conflating the Volmark's older maternal Hoare lineage with the blood of Volmark's mother.)
Thus setting sex aside, the Volmarks may well be as much "Hoares" as they are "Volmarks".
So perhaps Quellon being Hoare-esque and a bit of a 'man-whore' might have something to do with his having a Volmark mother. Maybe that's what calling Maron Volmark "the true heir of the black line" is about: suggesting it's the Volmarks, not hte Greyjoys, who are truly 'Hoare-ish', notwithstanding that Quellon was a maternal Volmark and hence Hoare-ish.
Or maybe it's (also?) about something else . . .

I’m 22 (F) and I was really good friends with a girl where I study. We will call her Amy. We were really close and would always hang out during college times. Amy had a boyfriend which had been revealed that he was sending suggestive pics to his ex. I would always defend her when she didn’t want me or our mutual friends pressuring her to break up with him so she can try and manage in her own time. She was also happy enough to let us have our opinions on the situation. I did a lot for her and would always comfort her when she needed it.
Fast forward a bit and her boyfriend starts college but she thinks he’s acting a bit weird due to his location. Now Amy has mentioned that her boyfriend would get angry when she didn’t get a specific train time home and has made her cry when she one time asked him to do something for her when she did all the stuff around the house. When we thought he was acting strange. I voiced to her that I was worried that he might be up to something again such as cheating. She didn’t say anything to me at that time. I seen her off on her train and went home myself.
I then get a message from her an hour later saying that I’ve drilled him cheating on her in her head when I only mentioned it once or twice. I felt guilty and blamed myself and tried to apologise to her convinced I just ruined her relationship with her partner. Same night I decided to dye my hair posted it on my story as I was loving my new look. After trying to apologise a couple of days later, she said I never should of said anything at all despite her telling us she was happy enough to hear our opinions
Next day I get a message from Amy asking why I dyed my hair her colour and accused me of copying her. We argued and I told her that I don’t dye my hair for anyone but me. I tried as much as I could to make it up to her after feeling overwhelmed. Fast forward a few weeks I go back to where I’m studying and I try to ignore her, she then thinks I’m talking about her behind her back when I go to talk to my friend when for that full day I didn’t even talk to her or even look at her . It’s gotten to the point where I don’t feel welcome at college anymore due to her becoming a bit of a bully by trying to shout at me or antagonise me. I was also asked to apologise to her by my teachers as she wanted an apology. I tried and she straight up got nasty again. It’s been over a month and I haven’t attended college due to mental health and this situation. What also doesn’t help is I’ve also overheard her say she’s happier without him but it makes me wonder why she is still hating on me for this situation. My other friend has also turned on me not hearing my side of the story despite her saying she doesn’t want to get involved but will still sit next to Amy. I need to ask guys as it’s stressed me out for over a month. AITAH?..

As I will never tire of pointing out, it's my belief that (seemingly endless) 'rhyming' recurrence is baked-in to and at the core of the Song we're reading — ASOIAF — as is foregrounded in A Feast For Crows, when Arianne explains House Toland's sigil to Ser Arys Oakheart by telling him "all things come round again". (AFFC The Soiled Knight)
We see this in the countless 'rhymes' between ASOIAF's invented histories (as conveyed in AWOIAF and Fire & Blood) and ASOIAF proper, and in the parallels and 'rhyming' reversals between the storylines and characters of ASOIAF and one another, which follow and extrapolate on the formula laid out for us when Areo Hotah foregrounds the 'rhyme' between himself and the aforemention Ser Arys:

The white knight. The captain frowned. Ser Arys had come to Dorne to attend his own princess, as Areo Hotah had once come with his. Even their names sounded oddly alike: Areo and Arys. Yet there the likeness ended. The captain had left Norvos and its bearded priests, but Ser Arys Oakheart still served the Iron Throne. (AFFC The Captain of Guards)

Here I want to dedicate a post solely to drawing attention to one such 'rhyme' — a 'rhyme' I've frequently pointed out in passing in service of this or that 'greater' point.
I want to talk about the fact that Quellon Greyjoy is very clearly written so as to seem "Hoare-ish": to be a Lord of the Iron Islands who recalls in various ways everything we're told about the Hoare kings of the Iron Islands.

The "Quellon Greyjoy" of A World of Ice & Fire

Consider first everything AWOIAF tells us about Quellon Greyjoy:

Near the end of Haereg's great work you will come to Lord Quellon Greyjoy, the wisest of the men to sit the Seastone Chair since Aegon's Conquest. A huge man, six and a half feet tall, he was said to be as strong as an ox and as quick as a cat. In his youth he earned renown as a warrior, fighting corsairs and slavers in the Summer Sea. A leal servant of the Iron Throne, he led a hundred longships around the bottom of Westeros during the War of the Ninepenny Kings and played a crucial role in the fighting around the Stepstones.
As lord, however, Quellon preferred to walk the road of peace. He forbade reaving, save by his leave. He brought maesters to the Iron Islands by the score, to serve as healers to the sick and tutors to the young; with them came their ravens, whose black wings would tie the isles to the green lands tighter than ever before.
It was Lord Quellon who freed the remaining thralls and outlawed the practice of thralldom on the Iron Islands (in this he was not wholly successful). And whilst he took no salt wives himself, he allowed other men to do so but taxed them heavily for the privilege. Quellon Greyjoy sired nine sons on three wives. His first and second wives were rock wives, joined to him with the old rites by a priest of the Drowned God, but his last bride was a woman of the green lands, a Piper of Pinkmaiden Castle, wed to him in her father's hall by a septon.
In this, as in much else, Lord Quellon turned away from the ancient and insular traditions of the ironborn, in hopes of forging stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. So strong a lord was Quellon Greyjoy that few dared speak openly against him, for he was known to be strong-willed and stubborn and fearsome in his wroth.

In short, Quellon Grejoy pretty much acted exactly like the historic kings of House Hoare.
How so?

Wives & The Faith

Where the Hoares "took maidens of [Andal] ilk to wife" and were proclaimed "ungodly" by the priests of the Drowned God for (among other things) tolerating and even welcoming the Faith of the Seven to the Iron Islands, Quellon not only wed a non-ironborn maiden of House Piper of the (formerly Hoare-ruled) Riverlands, but was wed to her by a septon of the Faith "in her father's hall" on mainland Westeros (rather than on the "holy islands" of the ironborn). These actions were surely seen as "ungodly" by the priests of the Drowned God.

Anti-Reaving & Pro Cultural and/or Commercial Exchange

Quellon "forbade reaving, save by his leave". Sounds like the Hoares:

The Hoare kings… discouraged the practice of reaving. And as reaving declined, trade grew. (TWOIAF)

(No, we're not explicitly told that "trade grew" under Quellon, but it is pretty much impossible to conclude that it didn't, given that Quellon was dedicated to "forging stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms" and to "[tying] the isles to the green lands tighter than ever before".)

Bringing In Outsiders

When Quellon "brought maesters to the Iron Islands by the score", it was an echo of the Hoares opening the Islands to the septons of the Faith:

[I]t was under the Hoares that the Faith of the Andals came to the Iron Islands for the first time. (TWOIAF)

Thralls & Salt Wives

Quellon "freed the remaining thralls and outlawed the practice of thralldom", while taking no salt wives and "heavily" taxing those who did.
Both the substance and verbiage of these policies 'rhyme' with those of Handsome Harmund Hoare, who banned reaving, "outlawed" salt wives and was about to "end the practice of thralldom" when he was overthrown by a priest-led rebellion. (TWOIAF)

Fearsome In Their Wroth

Quellon probably wasn't loved by all for his liberal policies, given the widespread influence of the Priests of Drowned God and the deep-seated ironborn predilcection for reaving and war, but…

…few dared speak openly against him, for he was known to be strong-willed and stubborn and fearsome in his wroth. (TWOIAF)

This, too, compares neatly with the Hoares:

Few of their subjects ever loved them, but many had good reason to fear their wroth. (TWOIAF)

Quellon & Qhorwyn Hoare

We're told that Quellon was "the wisest of the men to sit the Seastone Chair since Aegon's Conquest". Since the Hoares, then.
We're told that wise Lord Quellon raised taxes, "forg[ed] stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms" (surely entailing trade), and "spent most of his long reign avoiding war".
In these things he clearly 'rhymes' with "shrewd" (see: "wise"), "avaricious" (see: raising taxes) Qhorwyn Hoare, who "spent his entire reign… avoiding war":

A shrewd and avaricious king, Qhorwyn had spent his entire reign accumulating wealth and avoiding war. "War is bad for trade," he said….

Where King Qhorywn said "War is bad", but spent heavily preparing for it just in case, Quellon fought in "the War of the Ninepenny Kings" (get it? a war named after money…) but "as lord… preferred to walk the road of peace."

Forging Stronger — Hoare-ish — Bonds

Consider again the line about Quellon "forging stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms":

Lord Quellon turned away from the ancient and insular traditions of the ironborn, in hopes of forging stronger bonds between his own domains and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. (TWOIAF)

That line 'just so happens' to neatly embody the sigil of House Hoare, which depicts literal forged bonds — silver chains, like the "forged" chain of a maester, bound to serve — connecting symbols of the Arbor, Oldtown, Bear Island and the Iron Islands: that is, visually embodying the connection of and ties between the Iron Islands "and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms", so to speak.

'Rhyming' Youths

The one line describing Quellon's youth—

In his youth he earned renown as a warrior, fighting corsairs and slavers in the Summer Sea. (TWOIAF)

—'rhymes' with Qhorwyn Hoare's son Harwyn Hardhand's youth from TWOIAF:

A belligerent boy by all accounts, and third in the succession, Harwyn Hoare was sent to sea at an early age. He sailed with a succession of reavers in the Stepstones, visited Volantis, Tyrosh, and Braavos, became a man in the pleasure gardens of Lys, spent two years in the Basilisk Isles as a captive of a pirate king, sold his sword to a free company in the Disputed Lands, and fought in several battles as a Second Son.

• "In his youth he earned renown as a warrior" → "a belligerent boy by all accounts"
  warrior → belligerent; youth → boy; renown → by all accounts
  
• "In his youth he earned renown as a warrior" → "at an early age" he "sold his sword… and fought in several battles"
  
• "fighting corsairs and slavers in the Summer Sea" → "sailed with… reavers in the Stepstones", "captive of a pirate king in the Basilisk Isles", "fought… as a Second Son"
  fighting → fought; corsairs → reavers + pirates; slavers → captive; SS → SS
  

But where "As lord… Quellon preferred to walk the road of peace" (like Qhorwyn), as King Qhorwyn's son…

Harwyn had no use for peace, but much and more for the arms and armor that his father forged.

Qhorwyn's Son & Quellon's Sons

Qhorwyn's son Harwyn was in that respect just like Quellon's son Balon, then, the story of whose youth is told in a manner whose form/structure is borrowed for Harwyn's story, above:

Balon the eldest and boldest, a fierce and fearless boy who lived only to restore the ironborn to their ancient glory. At ten he scaled the Flint Cliffs to the Blind Lord's haunted tower. At thirteen he could run a longship's oars and dance the finger dance as well as any man in the isles. At fifteen he had sailed with Dagmer Cleftjaw to the Stepstones and spent a summer reaving. He slew his first man there and took his first two salt wives. At seventeen Balon captained his own ship. (AFFC The Prophet)

At the same time the details of Qhorwyn's third son Harwyn's time spent abroad in Essos feel like they're also a recursive, 'rhyming' iteration of Quellon's third surviving son Euron's exile to Essos. (Where Harwyn was captive of a pirate king before returning home to overthrow his older brothers, Euron, a king who looks like a stereotypical "pirate" and who likely was "The Corsair King", seemingly overthrows his older brother and takes his brother Aeron captive.)
Qhorwyn's eldest son died of greyscale:

When Harwyn returned to the Iron Islands, he found his father Qhorwyn dying, and his eldest brother two years dead from greyscale.

Quellon's eldest son was likewise dying of greyscale—

Nine sons had been born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, the Lord of the Iron Islands. Harlon, Quenton, and Donel had been born of Lord Quellon's first wife, a woman of the Stonetrees. … Harlon [the eldest] he recalled but dimly, sitting grey-faced and still in a windowless tower room and speaking in whispers that grew fainter every day as the greyscale turned his tongue and lips to stone. (AFFC The Prophet)

—when Quellon's third surviving son Euron murdered him, recalling the fratricidal treachery that brought Qhorwyn's third son Hardhand to power:

A second brother still stood between Harwyn and the crown, and his sudden death even as the king was breathing his last remains a matter of dispute to this day. Those present at Prince Harlan's passing all declared his death accidental, the result of a fall from his horse, but of course it would have been worth their lives to suggest otherwise. Beyond the Iron Islands, it was widely assumed that Prince Harwyn was behind his brother's demise. Some claimed he had done the deed himself, others that Prince Harlan had been slain by a Faceless Man of Braavos. (TWOIAF)

That story of Harwyn's fratricidal treachery toward his older brother is also clearly contrived to 'rhyme' with what we've been told about Euron killing Balon to take power, right down to the older brother dying in a fall and the rumors that a Faceless Man was involved.
The detail about the brother dying "even as the king was breathing his last" reworks Euron murdering Harlon by "pinch[ing] his nose shut" so he could not breath. (TWOW The Forgotten)
The way Qhorwyn Hoare died "even as" his son died a "sudden death" 'rhymes' with Quellon's wife dying even "as the midwife drew a stillborn daughter from her womb". (The phrase "sudden death" evokes "sudden infant death syndrome".)

Summing Up TWOIAF & Its Hoare-esque Quellon

So clearly Quellon Greyjoy as described in TWOIAF is is blatantly Hoare-esque, not just because his policies recall (both in their substance and in how they are written about) those of the Hoare Kings but even inasmuch as certain actions of his children evoke the actions of Qhorwyn Hoare's Hoare sons. And clearly we're supposed to notice this.

The "Quellon Greyjoy" of ASOIAF Proper Is Also Hoare-esque. Or Rather: A Bit Whore-esque

If TWOIAF makes it abundantly clear that Quellon was Hoare-esque, AFFC makes it abundantly clear that Quellon was nothing if not a prolific sperm cannon, siring nine sons on three different wives:

Nine sons had been born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, the Lord of the Iron Islands. (AFFC The Prophet)
Nine sons had been born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, but only four had lived to manhood. (AFFC The Prophet)
Nine sons had been born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, and Victarion was the strongest of them, a bull of a man, fearless and dutiful. (AFFC The Prophet)
Nine sons were born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy, and I was the least of them, as weak and frightened as a girl. (AFFC The Prophet)
"Nine sons were born from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy. One was mightier than all the rest, and knew no fear." (AFFC The Drowned Man)

It would seem that Quellon Greyjoy liked to have sex rather a lot . . . which might make him seem (to someone not perversely committed to language-policing in the name of said sex-positivity [or whatever]) like something of a whore (or 'man-whore' or whatever).
And thus it turns out that what we're told about Quellon in ASOIAF proper in its own way paints Quellon as every bit the figurative Hoare/whore that AWOIAF does.

Why Paint Quellon As A 'Hoare'/'Whore'?

The question, of course, is "to what end?"
Is it just a little joke? 'Ha ha, Quellon is Hoare-ish and whore-ish', and that's all there is to it?
One thing I will note apropos of that question: ASOIAF loves to use the term "whoreson". Once we're aware of the existence of House Hoare, though, the term makes us think of Hoare sons.
Could Quellon be a Hoare son, of sorts?
While we can presume Quellon's father was a Greyjoy, we have no idea who his mother was. Regardless of her family name, might she have descended from House Hoare, making Quellon a Hoare-ish Hoare son? Was she a Volmark? The Volmarks descend from Qhorwyn Hoare's daughteHardhand Hoare's sister—

Qhorin Volmark, a minor lord on Harlaw, was the first man to claim the kingship [after Aegon's conquest]. His grandmother had been a younger sister of Harwyn Hardhand. On the basis of that tie, Volmark declared himself the rightful heir of "the black line." (TWOIAF)

—and some say they are the "true heir[s] of the black line" of House Hoare:

"Tarle the Thrice-Drowned was heard to say that Maron Volmark is the true heir of the black line." (AFFC The Iron Captain)
Volmark is a callow boy, but he has Black Harren's blood in him through his mother. (AFFC The Reaver)

(It's unclear whether Victarion is thinking that Volmark's mother is a Hoare, or whether he is confusing and conflating the Volmark's older maternal Hoare lineage with the blood of Volmark's mother.)
Thus setting sex aside, the Volmarks may well be as much "Hoares" as they are "Volmarks".
So perhaps Quellon being Hoare-esque and a bit of a 'man-whore' might have something to do with his having a Volmark mother. Maybe that's what calling Maron Volmark "the true heir of the black line" is about: suggesting it's the Volmarks, not hte Greyjoys, who are truly 'Hoare-ish', notwithstanding that Quellon was a maternal Volmark and hence Hoare-ish.
Or maybe it's (also?) about something else . . .

My gf is a fairly busy woman, works nightshifts, and sometimes isn't home until 10/11am. She works 3-4 times a week though.
Sometimes, though, even when she isn't working, she takes an absolutely insane time to reply. Sometimes 8 hours, sometimes only once a day.
It is weird, because in person she is the most affectionate (and needy - but in a good way, and I like it) girl, she constantly wants to cuddle, do stuff together, be intimate, watch films, play boardgames, or just have long nice chats about stuff.
But, for me, I am finding myself thinking about her a lot of the time, and with the little reciprocation I get back over text, it's hard to feel the same back when we are not together. I don't know if I'm the problem. But my eyes light up and I smile whenever she texts me. Some days, it is completely normal, you know, 4-5 times a day, quite long blocks of text, and within 1-2 hours of reply. That's fine.
But I just find it strange because for me personally, it's like I have to fight myself to not reply to friends/family (and her) within 30m as to not look conventionally 'needy'. I never leave people on read, I will always reply, always give an opinion, or just laugh at something with someone.
Am I being unreasonable? Am I expecting too much? Am I right to feel annoyed? Should I just try calling her instead of texting?
I can always give more context if people want it. I just find this being constantly on my mind "does she actually like me" is ruining my work focus too and it's bothering me generally, in a sense I feel like I am being ignored.
But at the same time, under the advice of one of my own friends already - he's told me to stop overthinking this, and if it's lovely in person, then I need to stop spoiling a good thing.
and FYI, I follow most 'golden rules', you know:
A) Never let the conversation get boring
B) Don't double text (only do this when we're meeting up on the day if we don't call)
C) Send the same amount of messages or similar as received

Bonus chapter to celebrate 100 followers on Royal Road. Hopefully we're just getting started.
Previous Chapter - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road
*
Chapter Twelve - The Blacksmith's Boy (Part One)
‘Lokk?’
Lokk glanced over his shoulder at the sound, frowning, and thought better of responding. Carel could manage without him a few moments longer.
‘Is someone calling you?’ The girl beside him asked, looking up at him with large eyes. Wanda, her name was, with a set of generous, pleasing dimples either side of a smiling mouth, freckled skin framed with a shock of crimson hair. His age. Maybe a year or so older. Who could tell? Who would care? Fifty men and women called Rindon home. Ten were close to his age. Four of them were women. Three of those weren’t his kin, and only one of those wasn’t already sick of the sight of him. Not yet, anyway.
‘Lokk?’ She asked him again, and he met her eye, brushing a strand of fair hair back from his brow.
‘They’ll wait.’ He told her, favouring her with a careless smile. ‘What were you saying? About your mother?’
‘Lokk!’ The call came again, louder this time, and accompanied by a loud clatter of pots through the kitchen door. He flinched, glancing up irritably. When he looked down again, Wanda was frowning, dimples dimpling into a polite, if apologetic, smile.
‘I… had best be going.’
‘Wait, Wanda, I...’ But she was already gone, hurrying off through the little maze of tables and chairs towards the Nest’s door. Lokk watched her go, not a little wistfully, ignoring a quiet smirk from one of the early arrivals. Then he sighed and went out through the door behind the bar, scowling.
The heat in the kitchen was thick with vapour. Steam poured out of a large pot hung swinging over the fire, steam that smelled of scavenged herbs and stale meat. Carel was standing beside it, stirring the contents with a ladle longer than her arm, pale hair tied back in a tight knot behind her head. On the counter beside her, the desiccated remains of a half-dozen different vegetables. The meat had left nothing behind.
‘What?’ He asked irritably, closing the door behind him.
‘What do you think?’ His sister replied, shooting him an irritable glance over her shoulder. ‘I don’t think me doing all the work whilst you drink our casks dry is what Da had in mind.’
‘I wasn’t just drinking.’ He told her. An apron was hanging up by the door, and he hung it sullenly over his shoulders, frowning. ‘Besides, you look like you were managing just fine without me.’
Carel snorted. ‘Someone had to.’
‘You’re much better at it than me, anyways.’ He added offhandedly, taking the ladle from her hands and sipping appreciatively from the little bowl of brownish broth. ‘Leave me to the casks. I’ll keep them company instead.’
‘I’m only better at it because Da taught me.’ Carel told him, scowling. ‘And he only taught me because he knew you’d be off trying to bed every girl in the village whenever his back’s turned. How is Maddy, by the way?’
‘Wanda.’ He corrected.
Carel snorted. ‘Anything that breathes, I suppose.’
Lokk gave her a hurt look. ‘Now, I’d hardly say anyth-‘
‘That’s actually my point.’ She interrupted him, snatching back the ladle. ‘You would say anything, if it got you what you wanted. Now make yourself useful and cut some bread.’
‘No need to be hurtful.’ He told her with a frown, going over to the counter and snatching up a knife. ‘Would be much simpler if I only had eyes for one someone. Not all of us have it so easy.’
He ducked just in time as part of a turnip crunched into the wall beside his head.
‘You’re right, I’m better off without your help!’ Carel told him, turning back to the pot. ‘Go back to your barrels.’
‘Thought you’d never ask.’ He shrugged the apron off his shoulders, and ducked through the door, just as another dismembered vegetable whistled past his ear.
Back in the common room, a few more of the villagers had assembled around one of the tables near the fire, making the early overtures of evening conversation around the edges of their ale mugs. Da had emerged from the Nest’s bowels, and was now skirting the table skilfully, fresh cask under arm. Lokk took his place behind the bar, doing his best to look busy. It was only then he noticed the other table. Further from the fire, this one. Quieter, too. Dark cloaks, dark faces. Lokk didn’t recognise them, and there wasn’t anyone in Rindon he didn’t know. As he watched, one of them looked up towards him with dark eyes, and he looked away, busying himself polishing a particularly stubborn mug.
‘You look busy.’
Da had appeared at his side, setting the cask down on the bar with a little sigh of effort. His rosy cheeks were rosier than ever, and his clothes smelt of pipe-smoke.
‘I am busy.’
‘I suppose your sister didn’t need your help?’ The innkeep smiled knowingly, taking his old pipe from a pocket in his shirt and rubbing it clean on his sleeve.
‘Said so herself.’
‘Course she did.’
‘I-’
‘Well, it was a fucking storm wasn’t it. Not every little shower gets farted out a wizard’s arse.’ Albin, the butcher, exclaimed from near the fire. Overtures done then. Time for an argument. Lokk might have smiled, had he not been so terribly bored by it all.
‘This is a long one. They’ll be here a while yet.’ Da told him thoughtfully, chewing idly at the nib of his pipe. He frowned. His Ma had hated that thing. But Ma was gone, and it wouldn’t do any good, thinking about her. ‘We’ll need another cask.’
‘Older the better?’
‘Oldest the best.’ The innkeep agreed, grinning at him.
Lokk nodded and turned towards the door, then hesitated.
‘I don’t know them folk.’ He said quietly, nodding towards the little group of dark figures sitting away from the fire. The innkeep caught his look and frowned.
‘Solen’s new hands. Lowlanders.’ He replied, tamping some weed into the end of his pipe with the end of his thumb. ‘Nosey bunch. He’s got a few more besides, I hears. Must be a busy season up at the mine.’
Lokk frowned. ‘Do mines have busy seasons?’
‘Damned if I know. Keep to ‘emselves, mostly, anyways. Been here best part of a month, I reckon. Had one of ‘em in here asking questions, few days back, nothing since.’ The innkeep stopped fiddling with his pipe for a moment, giving his son a sideways look. ‘Still, they pay their way. Up front. Which is more than I can say for most of this lot.’
Lokk stole one last look at the quiet table of strangers, then turned and went out through a side door and into the night beyond, leaving Da at the bar alone.
The cold air bit at his skin as he emerged into the dark, and he shivered, shrugging himself a little deeper into his shirt. Winter came quickly, this close to the Teeth, filling the rocks with the kind of deep, dark cold that lasted well into spring. Presently, a rumbling cloud of purpling rain was drawing in over the mountains, and the wind was picking up. Lokk shivered again, scowling. Just his luck to catch the rain.
He made his way around the side of the sloping roof of the inn, head low against the gathering whine of the wind. Another night, another cask. Another squabble over nothing by the fire. Another restless sleep, wrapped in cold blankets. Alone. Summer was bad enough, but winter in the foothills was slower than a monk in a brothel. The women, such as they were, stayed home, for the most part. Those that did make it to the Nest didn’t wait out the first mugs. Even Cal had stopped calling, this past month.
Overheard, a pale flash of light, followed by a distant rumble. Rain had started, somewhere off up the slopes. Lokk aimed another choice curse at no one in particular. No women, no friends. No money. It was a sorry state of affairs, if ever he’d seen one.
He reached the store and began fiddling with the lock with numb fingers, frowning. It was hardly Cal’s fault, he knew. That blacksmith was quite mad. Everyone knew it. Locked up in that old forge, hammering away, night and day. Lokk had seen him a few times. Fonder of glaring than talking. Wasn’t exactly afraid of him, but he certainly didn’t like him. Big tree of a man, arms thick as thighs, had to stoop to get through most doorways. And his eyes! Lokk shivered again. Felt like ice on your skin when he looked at you. Strays like Cal couldn’t be choosers, Lokk knew that well enough. But if he was him, he’d have run off years ago.
The latch finally gave, and he swung the door open with a triumphant snort. He felt his way along the row of casks closest to the door, where the older ones were, fumbling in the dark. Behind him, the thunder crashed against the side of the hills, vibrating through his boots, and he flinched in spite of himself. If that mad blacksmith was going to keep Cal locked up like some trained animal, he’d have to get by without him. Not like Cal was the best company, anyway, these days. Always had been a strange one, but pale eyes had started getting far too clever for his own good, recently. More full of secrets than a Westri merchant. Sometimes he wondered if Cal saw the world the rest of them did, or one entirely his own. And then there was the Carel problem.
His hand settled on the cask closest to the far wall, and he dragged it grumbling from its place, wedging it under one arm. No, he could hardly blame Cal for any of it. He was just bored. Still, better bored at the inn than locked up in that damn forge with the cracked old blacksmith and his scarred face. He snorted under his breath, shivering at the thought. They’d been talking about leaving for years now. Going west. Arinath, maybe, Uldoroth, even. Men could make a good living in the white stones, so they’d heard. Makers knew they couldn’t stay here forever. Run the inn? Take up mining? No, they wouldn’t be here, forever. Maybe this year. Maybe next. But they’d get there. Tough place, the Lowlands, but they’d look out for each other. Always had. Besides, couldn’t be any tougher than these fucking hills. He wondered if Carel would follow them there, too. Who’d do the Nest's cooking, then?
He was halfway to the door when he heard it. The slow whisper of a thousand thousand breaths, brushes on the stones, rippling closer. He hesitated for a moment, then cursed, staggering for the door, cask slipping against his arm. The rain caught him on the doorstep, turning him silver with a layer of frigid water, and he spilled clumsily into the firelight beyond, nearly dropping the cask.
‘Easy!’
‘I’ve got it!’ He snapped back, straightening and setting it down on the bar beside the other. Da had got his pipe lit in the time Lokk had been outside, and the little twisting strings of smoke were curling upwards from his whiskered mouth. Carel was beside him, spooning her steaming brown broth into three small bowls on the bar.
‘Just in time for dinner.’ Da told him, sucking on his pipe.
‘As always.’ Carel murmured.
‘I-’
‘You look wet.’
‘I swear to-’
‘Get the door, will you. You trying to let the storm in?’
Lokk scowled, latching the door, and snatched up his bowl silently. He looked out at the rest of the common room, savouring the heat of the fire for a moment. Just as he left it. Of course it was. What would have changed?
‘What about Isandur, then?’ One of the villagers beside the fire was asking. Lokk snorted.
‘This one, again?’
‘It’s a good story.’ Da said quietly, blowing a little stream of smoke through his pursed lips.
‘Heard it a half-dozen times already, this month.’
‘Don’t let Godry hear you talking rot.’ Carel told him, taking up her own bowl and stirring it gently. ‘Wouldn’t want him giving it up. Albin would have to take over.’
Lokk’s eyes caught the little group of strangers again, sitting in the shadows away from the fire. Talking quietly amongst themselves. Dark cloaks and dour faces. At least that was new. They even looked like they might be more bored than he was.
Outside, the rain drummed down over the thatching, and the wind whined over the hills. He sighed, and took a mouthful of the steaming, tasteless stew, frowning to himself. Another night. Another boring fucking night.

Someone named Bailey is coming to Carly's place on June 14th on vacation. She's Carly's "good friend". That's very scary that she's allowing complete strangers come to her house. She says she's blonde, the same height as Carly & has blue eyes. She has no clue who this girl is, she could be a he. We know how fast she goes through friends.