Almsworth-worm - Normal Person Do Not Read My Mind.

Sometimes when praying people will go "and cast all my period cramps onto satan" and IT FUCKING HURRTTTTS

the way ppl have designated cuddling as a purely romantic thing and is weird outside of that context has done widespread damage to our pack animal nature

She presses a cup full of tea into the hands of the woman - no, the girl, she’s far younger than she is - who sits across from her. She expresses the appropriate amount of worry and concern.

‘What on earth were you doing in the garden at such a time of night?’

‘Is there anything particularly bad that led to this? I might be able to help.’

‘No, no. I insist that you remain here. It’s just good manners.’

‘Well, nothing’s more important to me than being polite and courteous.’

The girl glances at her, perturbed by her words. Nevertheless, she accepts the comfort they offer.

It changes nothing. If she wanted help, she should have done it properly, knocked at the door and asked politely. Maybe then Ophelia would have done something more. She could have given her some money, or a room for a few nights, or snuck out and killed her terrible partner or whoever, or solved any and all of her problems.

She doesn’t know or particularly care. If the girl wanted her to pay attention, she should have asked nicely.

As things stand, regardless of the cup of tea she sips from, or the borrowed coat she has draped across her shoulders to keep out the cold, or the reassuring words Ophelia smothers her in, she has been rude.

She is a trespasser, and none of the kindnesses of guesthood apply to her.

Ophelia asks her to stand and follow her. Leads her to one of the many guest rooms. This one is centrally located and well-appointed. Despite the regular use the room finds itself in, it is clean and spotless. No stains or marks on any of the carpet or bedding or upholstery.

The girl thanks her. She is praised for her humanity, for her kindness, for her politeness.

She is self-aware enough to know she only has one of those qualities.

She closes the door as she leaves. She turns and checks it. She shuts and closes and secures every one of the deadbolts and locks and mechanisms that will keep the trespasser confined.

She walks briskly to her boss and informs him of their new guest for the night.

The next evening, there are new flowers in the vases that line the hallway.

The next evening, there are new flowers in Ophelia’s hair.

The next evening, that guest room is empty once more.

me impatiently to the little french cat boiling me in a stew: chat am I cooked

he thinks he's being so smooth with his little face on my leg. i SEE you, villain

some of you act worried that I may betray the lesbian community but this is wrong. i do not so much betray as much as it is that my trajectory is different from that of my companions. and so I either leave or hurt them. but the lesbians and I are like two parallel lines, understanding each other perfectly and so there willbe no tension between us