#but then she assumes i can read /her/ mind

[hedgehog-moss]

I was thinking earlier that I find autumn gardening a lot more soothing than spring or summer gardening. Fewer things happen, there's no urgency, you're no longer pressed by strict tomato schedules. In the spring I plant vegetables (daily maintenance, many opportunities for mistakes), in autumn I get rid of broom (there's no wrong way to kill broom) and plant trees (a finite task.) Trees have independent spirits, you plant them and do your best to put them in good conditions and then you're free; but carrots have needs. Vegetables need sisyphean amounts of weeding and watering—not too much but not too little—, I’ve got to check leaf colour to see if I'm doing something wrong (with tomatoes the answer is yes), they get mildewy, they get attacked by insects, they need protection from chickens (it's easier to protect a tree from deer than a courgette plant from hens) and frequent tiny haircuts and sponge baths like royal wives. Things can go wrong with baby trees too but they don't expect you to worry about them every day, they're doing their thing, you're doing your thing.

Also planting trees & the large-scale weeding I do in autumn can be done cleanly if I'm careful, but even with gloves I find it impossible to plant & weed a vegetable garden without getting my hands dirty. At some point or other you just have to touch dirt. When you choose to live a rural life everyone assumes you must enjoy touching dirt with your hands but I do not. It's not a texture thing or a germ thing, it’s just that having dirty hands places an obstacle between me and my books. I didn’t like to make sandcastles on the beach as a kid for this reason, I’ve always been reluctant to touch things that might cling to my skin, like soil or wet sand, because now there’s a wall of glass called rinse your hands between me and the book I carry on my person. This creates a nagging psychological discomfort.

I read a book by a woman gardener last spring in which she says she wouldn't even mind getting no harvest because she feels soothed by the very act of gardening, and I felt bad for gardening in a utilitarian, result-oriented way and not having attained her higher stage of soul development, but in autumn I get it. It's nice to clear an area of brambles and plant a tree and then sit down to read for a bit next to this quiet and friendly entity you planted that doesn't need anything from you in the immediate future. I could do this with no expectations. I have a very different relationship with my spring carrots but that's okay, I've decided I'm an autumn gardener and now that I'm in a category I feel secure.

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 3

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21.Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another. Masterlist to the previous parts! Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

The raindrops fell over the cobblestones, and, in particular, those falling from the gable were heavy against the small porch of the chapel where she waited. She breathed into her hands, seeking warmth as she tilted her head to the side. Now alone, she felt her curiosity begin to spark, like a cat finally let out of its carrier. 

The narrow side streets hinted at the town’s size and social standing, with only one main road that, incidentally, was the only paved one. She guessed that if the weather hadn’t been so dreary, she could have seen the end of it. Her more optimistic side blamed the weather, but the town struck her as dreadful. In the distance, her attention was drawn to the farmer who had been inside with them. 

He was talking to someone she assumed was his wife or another townsperson, with his horse beside him and a border collie patiently waiting against his leg. Eventually, both of them turned to look at her, and she stiffened under their scrutiny. 

‘Should I... wave at them? Don’t small towns know everyone? Should I start getting to know everyone?’ 

But as her mind filled with these thoughts, they turned back to talk to each other. She pressed her lips together, feeling time drag painfully. The coat over her head made her uneasy. Almost involuntarily, she took a few deep breaths, catching a faint scent in the air, and then another, more focused sniff. It felt like cheating somehow, though it wasn’t, as her nose itched from his scent, and her body seemed to process it more deeply. 

‘It’s deeper than Die...’ she thought melancholically. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t encountered many unmated alphas in her life, or at least hadn’t gotten close enough to catch their scent. ‘Well… isn’t he humanity’s strength? ...something like that. I guess it takes some strong genes to be called that.’ 

“All right.” Levi’s voice startled her, and she tensed, turning to see him. He was drenched from his search for horses but seemed to handle it with a calmness, like sheep who don’t mind the sky falling on them. His hand held the reins of two horses, and, if her mind hadn’t been elsewhere, she might have chuckled. 

The black horse was absurdly tall and elegant, while the other was a dirty white with grayish spots, shorter and with bulkier legs. 

“You can have the one I rented if you prefer,” Levi offered, handing her the reins. But she didn’t take them right away. 

“Um…” She hesitated. “Sorry. I’ve never ridden alone,” she explained. Then, feeling the need to clarify, she added, “I usually just take carts.” 

Levi quickly grasped the issue. After a brief consideration, he reached back and switched the reins. "Take mine," he said, extending the reins of the black mare instead. "She’s calm and obedient.”  Levi said, nodding toward the mare. “Scout-trained.”  

She looked at the tall, sleek horse in front of her, nerves clear on her face. He jerked his thumb at the other smaller, stocky white one. “This one, I don’t know.” 

Her hand tentatively moved forward to touch the mare’s nose. At her touch, the horse nudged forward, her dark eyes focused intently on her. The mare’s imposing size made her hesitate. “Can’t we just ride together?” 

Levi, double-checking the saddle, looked back and replied firmly, “No. Too much mud on the way. I don’t want to put extra weight on her.” 

When he finished adjusting the saddle, he held out his arm, gesturing for her to step closer. He gave her a once-over and instructed, “Take the cloak underneath. No point in wearing it now that it’s soaked.” 

‘Well… he does enjoy giving orders,’ she thought. 

Feeling self-conscious under his observant gaze, she removed his coat, then unfastened her cloak, which was heavy and sodden. Her cheeks flushed as she noticed the white dress beneath was now damp and clung uncomfortably. She quickly ran her hands over her arms, trying to cover up, but Levi moved smoothly, placing his coat back over her shoulders before tossing the soaked cloak over the mare’s back. 

She took her position beside the mare, gripping the saddle, though her uncertainty was plain. “But… with my dress and that saddle, it’ll be difficult to ride with my legs on the side.” 

“Ride with your legs apart.” 

She looked over her shoulder at him as he moved to help her up. Despite his short height, he hoisted her up smoothly onto the mare. She was perched high above him now, gripping the reins and feeling the unfamiliar weight of control. Levi stepped back and gave her a once-over, as though to make sure she was seated safely. 

“This isn’t very ladylike,” she murmured, her voice carrying a note of unease as the powerful animal shifted beneath her. 

Levi raised an eyebrow, still maintaining his stoic look but with a glint of dry humor breaking through. “Well,” he said, his voice calm and low, “I’m the husband now, and I don’t mind it.” 

But the silence that followed told him all he needed to know: she didn’t find it funny. 

“Just hold steady,” he advised, placing a hand on the mare’s neck in an almost fatherly pat. “She’s been through rougher trips than this.” 

The mare, as if responding to his touch, lowered her head, brushing her soft nose against his hair and disheveling it slightly, so that her dark fur mingled with his equally raven locks. 

With that, he took the reins and knotted them to the other horse and swung himself up with practiced ease, barely flinching at the wet leather. It struck her that he was completely in his element, as if he belonged here in this bleak weather and muddy roads, as if he barely noticed the discomfort. 

The rain pattered steadily, its soft murmur filling the quiet as Levi guided his horse through the thickening gloom of the forest. Her soaked white cloak hung limply from the horse’s saddle. The water on it was counterproductive to keep the warmth, so she took it off. The green trench coat pulled over her head helped more, but it was far from miraculous. Despite the rain, a thick fog was rising as they left the small countryside town and ventured deeper into the forest. Soon, the cobblestones ended, leaving the horses to trudge through thick mud. The road became nearly invisible just a few steps ahead, and she cast a nervous glance at the forest, which seemed to stretch on endlessly. 

“Captain… shouldn’t we wait? It’s getting dark, and it could be dangerous,” she murmured, eyeing the shifting shadows between the trees. 

Levi’s response was firm, almost cutting. “I told you to call me Levi, and don’t worry.” His tone was as sharp as his gaze ahead. She wasn’t convinced, her brows knitting together in silent protest. Y/N clung tightly to the saddle of the black mare Levi had called his own. His raven hair stuck to his forehead as the rain poured mercilessly on him without his trench coat. When she pressed again, “But—” he cut her off. 

“I wouldn’t do anything dangerous,” he declared, his tone allowing no debate. “If I say it’s safe, it’s safe. Understood?” 

She murmured a reluctant hum, clearly displeased, but he glanced back over his shoulder, eyes piercing. “I didn’t hear you.” 

She swallowed, muttering low, “Understood.” The word fell with barely concealed disdain, and under her breath, she added with a hint of defiance, “…sir.” 

‘He said it wasn’t that far...’ but as they continued, it became clear that the headquarters weren’t close by. 

Each step the horse took forward felt like moving deeper into an enclosure, further away from family and friends. Eventually, the rocky forest path opened onto the scouts' rustic facility—a large training field of neatly trimmed grass and a main building looming in the darkness, with smaller buildings in the back. She squinted, barely able to make them out through the thick fog but guessed they might be the barracks, possibly separated by gender. 

She thought they would stop at the main doors, but Levi guided the horses further. The place overwhelmed her—she didn’t know where to look, and the quietness, at least from the outside, only made her more curious. 

“Where is everyone?” she asked. 

Levi looked around the quiet training grounds. “It’s late. Most of the soldiers are in the mess hall for dinner or getting ready for curfew,” he explained, his eyes sweeping the area with practiced vigilance. “Especially in this shitty weather.” 

He dismounted near a back entrance, which seemed to be a service area littered with discarded training materials. When the horses stopped, she moved to dismount, glancing down to gauge the distance to the ground. 

“Need help?” he asked, already striding over with firm steps, his boots far better equipped for the weather than hers. He positioned himself behind her and said, “Let go, I got you.” 

With his hands under her arms, he lifted her down with surprising ease. She turned quickly to face him, but he just said, “Stay here. I’ll put the horses away.” before she could protest. 

Though Levi’s presence didn’t exactly warm the atmosphere, his absence made the cold settle in even deeper. She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting around hectic —taking in the swaying trees under t the gusting wind, the flashes of lightning splitting the clouds. While the rain had momentarily stopped on the way back, it was obvious it wasn’t over. The forest sounds felt ominous in the dark, with only dim light illuminating the semi-open area at the back of the building. 

‘I feel like a doe... in the middle of a meadow.’ 

Ignoring Levi’s instruction, she opened the door and stepped inside. She glanced down both ends of the corridor, where yellowish candlelight cast a warm glow. The hum of distant voices filled the air, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘It stinks.’ 

It reeked of alphas—too many of them. Down the corridor to her left, she saw two young women, a brunette and a dark-haired one, passing by. The brunette noticed her standing in the hallway and looked back with a puzzled expression. 

‘Alright, maybe this time I should actually introduce myself.’ 

She raised a hand slightly, giving a tentative wave, but the brunette turned, calling out to someone— 

“I thought I told you to stay there.” Levi’s voice cut in from behind, firm with a trace of irritation as he locked the back door. Without further comment, he led her up a nearby staircase, his movements swift and purposeful. 

“But—” she started to object, glancing to the side, but he was already nudging her forward. His hand hovered at her back, as if nudging her without physically touching her, more a mental command than a physical push. 

As they ascended the stairs, Sasha, a brunette at the far end of the corridor, tugged on Jean and Connie’s arms. “See, she’s there!” she exclaimed. But when the three of them looked down the hall, no one was there—only a trail of muddy footprints. 

“...She was there,” Sasha insisted. 

Jean shot her a skeptical look. “Sasha, are you that hungry you’re seeing things... again?” 

Sasha frowned, clearly annoyed. “I saw her! I might be hungry, but I’m not imagining things.” 

“Well, she’s not there now, that’s for sure,” Connie said, stretching his arms behind his head. “Maybe a ghost?” 

“A suicidal one,” Jean added dryly. “Only higher-ups use the back door. And if Captain Levi sees that mud, he’d probably drag out a Ouija board just to kick that ghost’s ass for dirtying his floors.” 

Sasha and Connie started to walk away, but Jean paused, wrinkling his nose and sniffing the air with a puzzled expression. “...I do smell something strange, though.” 

Sasha and Connie shrugged, both of them betas, unable to pick up on any scent. But Mikasa, overhearing, joined them, her dark eyes narrowing. “Jasmine, berries, and coconut milk.” 

Jean shot her a smirk. “Well, I did switch to a new cologne…” 

But Mikasa ignored him, already walking ahead with a thoughtful expression, leaving Jean to trail off, his attempt at humor forgotten. 

As they moved through the winding corridors, she struggled to keep pace. Levi’s stride was steady and brisk, his attention fixed forward, but after a few glances back, he seemed to notice her struggle. With a subtle sigh, he slowed his pace focusing on her feet to match her pace.  

As he did so, he couldn’t help but notice the trail of mud they were leaving behind. Each footprint was a smear of damp earth and grime on the clean floor. His jaw tightened, and he clicked his tongue in irritation. ‘Focus on the important shit,’ he reminded himself. 

Reaching the door to his chambers, he patted his trousers absently, then checked the pockets of his uniform jacket. His brow creased in mild annoyance before he remembered: ‘The keys are in my coat.’ 

He moved closer to her, his face showing a rare hint of apology. “Sorry,” he murmured, reaching into the pockets of the coat she wore. She held still as he fished around, finally pulling out the key with a subtle nod. 

Before turning the key in the lock, he looked down at her shoes, now caked in mud. 

“Wait,” he muttered, holding a hand up. He gestured to her shoes with a short nod. “Shoes off,” he instructed, bending to remove his own boots first, leaving them by the doorway. She followed suit, slipping off her mud-caked shoes, which felt heavier with every step. 

She hesitated, glancing at the mud-covered shoes, but then leaned against the wall to remove her shoes. He did the same, tugging off his own boots and setting them neatly to the side. Once they were both ready, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, holding it for her to step inside. 

To be honest, she couldn’t say she was disappointed—her journey to his office had shown her this wasn’t the marriage she’d imagined. She’d heard the Scouts were… humble people. ‘A sweet way to call them low class,’ she thought wryly, fiddling with her loose ring, trying to keep it from slipping off her finger. Part of her almost wished the room would stay dark so she wouldn’t have to face reality, while another part hoped for a glimmer of candlelight to surprise her for the better. 

Levi shut the door behind him with a subtle sigh, closing his eyes briefly, as if gathering strength from somewhere unknown. ‘One task down,’ he reminded himself, as if safely getting her to the Scout headquarters unnoticed was his toughest mission yet. He shrugged off his uniform jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. 

She stood, frozen in place, as he walked past her, lighting a few candles he’d set up earlier. He busied himself lighting more, methodically checking off tasks from his mental to-do list. “Why don’t you take a shower? The water should be warm,” he suggested. 

‘And... here it is,’ she thought, her pupils darting around the room as though afraid to turn her head, scanning the place as the light started to fill it. She tried to hide her discomfort, not so much from a lack of hygiene as from a lack of warmth. Catching his eyes on her, she forced a thin smile. “Very... modest.” 

‘…Empty and rustic, but the last thing I want to find out is what he’s like when he’s mad.’ 

The room had only two doors: one, she guessed, led to a small bathroom, and the other to the bedroom. The main space was an office with a single shelf filled with books and not much else. ‘Doesn’t he have paintings or decorations?’ She found herself searching for anything that might make the space feel less austere and more homely, something to give her a glimpse of who he was. The office seemed to be the most furnished part of the quarters, with a set of sofas, a coffee table by the fireplace, and a desk. The large arched window was probably his only indulgence, a feature suggesting he spent most of his time here. 

“Shower?” Levi insisted, “Don’t take it personally, but I’d like to shower too.” 

That snapped her out of her trance. “Oh—sure,” in a small voice. “Um... where did you put my luggage?” 

Levi’s brow furrowed, and after a moment, he realized he hadn’t noticed her lack of belongings. “Was I supposed to have it?” he replied, answering her question with another—not a habit of his. 

“I sent it ahead, two days ago,” she explained, “They told me it would be best.” 

His eyes flicked to the window and the rain still pouring down outside. ‘Well… I think it’s pretty clear why that didn’t arrive yet.’ 

With a weary sigh, Levi leaned against his desk, one hand running over his damp hair. He looked worn out, both physically and emotionally. “This is a rural area,” he said, “and with this rain, it could take a few more days. A cart wouldn’t make it through the forest right now.” 

Levi stepped over to his bedroom, opened a few drawers, and, without moving from her spot, she couldn’t resist sneaking a look. She leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse over the door frame. 

She couldn’t see much, but curiosity stretched her mouth open as she craned her neck. A chest of drawers held neatly folded clothes, a couple of books stacked on top, and a wardrobe nearby had boxes on top that reached the ceiling (probably he used it as storage) with boots lined up beneath it. There was a standing mirror in one corner and she could only see the wood footboard of a small bed against the wall. 

“Here, you can—” Levi turned back toward her, catching her in the act of peeking. She straightened up quickly, feigning innocence. He raised an eyebrow at her obvious interest. “It’s not as if it’s off-limits. Walk in if you want.” 

‘Like a dog caught digging through the trash,’ he thought, mildly amused by her guilty expression. 

“Anyway, here.” He handed her some clothes. “The rest is in the bathroom.” 

She took them with a distracted nod, disappearing behind the bathroom door. 

“Ah...” He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding as he let himself collapse, boneless, into his desk chair. His hair was soaked, as was the rest of him, but he didn’t care. “A moment of silence.” 

Though she hadn’t said much, her silence was somehow louder than any words. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he felt drained—he’d been through expeditions to retake Wall Maria, yet this felt just as exhausting. But as always, Levi quickly pushed himself back up, pressing the bridge of his nose to calm the headache beginning to throb behind his eyes, and moved on. 

“I don’t have time to slack off,” he grunted to himself. He didn’t have much firewood left—it had been an unusually warm spring until today, and firewood was a luxury he was used to being frugal with, like nearly everything else in his life. 

'She should probably dry her hair before bed,' he thought, setting a kettle of water on in case she wanted tea. He considered making himself a cup but, as “going to bed” crossed his mind, the idea shifted to the liquor he had stashed in a cabinet. He poured himself a small glass, not intending to get drunk, but needing something that soothed him better than his usual caffeine. 

The fire began warming the room, and he placed his coat and jacket near it. He stepped outside briefly to bring in their shoes, cleaning them off and setting them to dry. The kettle’s whistle echoed in the quiet room, and he took it off the heat. That’s when a thought began to bother him. 

‘Should I check?’ He found himself near the bathroom door, ear pressed against it, straining to hear any sign of life. ‘What if she passed out in there?... or maybe she’s just constipated and can’t take a shit’ 

Knocking softly, he asked, “You okay in there?” 

“Yes, sorry.” 

Relieved but mildly exasperated, he shook his head. She’s using up all the water in the place, he thought, realizing she’d definitely not adapted to the military’s five-minute shower rule. 

Inside the bathroom, she was struggling to detangle her hair, but there was no conditioner, no hair mask, or anything remotely helpful. Her skin felt dry without any lotion, slightly raw from the harsh soap he had. Her hair smelled vaguely like cucumber, a tangled mess that only worsened under her frustrated attempts. 

“We are not going to cry, we are not going to cry,” she kept whispering to herself in front of the mirror. 

‘This was supposed to be my wedding night,’ 

For as long as she could remember, she had dreamed of her fiancé slowly, reverently helping her out of her wedding dress—a dress chosen just for him. She’d imagined him finally seeing her, her skin soft, her scent sweet enough to eat, a blend of lotion, perfume, everything. 

Instead, here she was, struggling with tangled hair and an uncooperative brush, her mascara still on because there was no makeup remover, wearing a baggy T-shirt and gray sweatpants, smelling like some generic soap, with her wedding dress stuffed in a dirty laundry basket. 

A million questions rushed through her mind. ‘What do I do?… Should I just lay there and let him do whatever he wants?’ ‘Is it going to hurt?’ ‘Would he force me to do something?’ 

“I could lock myself in here forever,” she reasoned, gripping the doorknob. ‘…Or could I?’ 

But eventually, she stepped out cautiously, slowly opening the door. He was sitting with his back to her, watching the fire from one of the couches. When he sensed her presence, he glanced over his shoulder. “Finally. For a moment, I thought you drowned in there.” 

Eyes downcast, she muttered, “Sorry.” 

Levi clicked his tongue. “It was a joke,” he grunted, feeling like nothing he said made the situation any less awkward. 

Levi noticed her standing there, looking unsure and uncomfortable, and with a small sigh, he gestured toward the couch. "Sit down," he said, his tone a bit softer than usual. "Dry up. It's cold in here." 

She hesitated but finally obeyed, slowly lowering herself onto the couch, her hands still clinging to her damp hair. Levi awkwardly stood for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before clearing his throat before speaking again. 

"Do you want something to eat? I can go see if there’s anything left from dinner," he asked awkwardly, already knowing she hadn’t eaten since the long journey. 

She didn’t reply immediately, only giving a soft hum as her response. Levi looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed.  

"That’s a no, then?" he muttered, then shifted his weight and walked to the desk. He leaned against it, sipping from his glass.  

"Fine," he muttered, “but I prefer when people actually answer me with words.” 

She didn’t respond. He glanced over at her, then added, “You sure? I can bring something. I don’t mind.” 

"No, thank you," she replied, her voice quiet but clear. 

Levi let out a small grunt of acknowledgment, not wanting to push her. He felt an odd tension in the air as he took another sip from his drink. “Alright then.” He paused before offering, "Tea, maybe?” 

"No, thank you." Her voice was quiet, distant. 

Levi exhaled a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his wet hair as he tried to focus on the fire.  

The tension lingered in the air, and after a moment, she spoke again, breaking the silence.  

"When do you think my things will arrive?" she asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice. 

Levi glanced at her, "Could take a while. The roads are bad, especially with this weather." He paused, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before continuing. "But if you need anything urgently, just tell me." 

She hesitated, her eyes darting away. Levi frowned slightly, sensing she was holding something back. He was starting to feel a little impatient. 

"Are you still on the rags?" he asked bluntly, unable to ignore the subtle discomfort in the way she fidgeted. "Need something for that?" 

Her eyes widened, a blush creeping across her face as she looked away, clearly embarrassed by the question. She seemed to shrink under his gaze, her shoulders stiffening.  

"I-I’m fine," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Levi raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by her answer. He didn’t know her well enough to be sure, but he was certain that something was off. He wasn’t about to let her go without offering help, though. 

"Look, if you need anything, just say it." He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softening slightly, “I can be named humanity’s strongest and all that bullshit but I’m not a mind reader,” 

She didn’t meet his eyes, still hesitant, but Levi stood still, waiting for her to speak. ‘There’s no point dragging this out any longer,’ she decided. 

“No, uh—” she chose her words carefully, “I’m over it.” 

Levi still seemed confused, so she clarified, her face growing redder by the second. “I’m... ready for you… whenever you tell me.” 

Her words dropped into the room like the cannonballs once used to break titans’ necks. Levi’s first thought, admittedly, wasn’t his most noble: ‘So... she thinks people don’t fuck when women are bleeding or?’ 

Lost in his thoughts and the awkwardness of the moment, he didn’t notice how she bit her lip, glancing up at him shyly. “Just—please, don’t be too rough on me.” 

Captain Levi always had a comeback, a retort, a dry response. But now, he only pressed his fingers against his glass, eyes locked with hers, lips parted as if to speak but words caught in the back of his throat. Across his life, he’d seen people look at him in many ways—admiration, anger, pity, fear—but hers was different. Her eyes, reflective and tinged red, stared up at him with something close to terror. A terror filled with pure resignation, pleading him.  

His jaw tightened, and he felt a knot form in his throat. ‘I’m going to make those bastards pay for this,’ He broke eye contact, turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

It was painful, painful for him to think someone could look at him like that. To see him as someone who might treat her as an object, begging him that at least, if he was going to do that, not to be a brute about it. But the worst part, the thought that clenched his throat even more was: ‘Like my mother…’ 

The room felt silent except for the branches scratching against the window in the storm outside and the flickering firelight. He forced his voice to sound steady. “Just go to bed.” 

“Huh?” she asked, confused. “...Should I...wait for you there?” 

Levi shook his head. “I can’t do it. Just go to bed. You look like shit.” 

He wasn’t known for being the best communicator, and his words often got lost in translation.  She blinked, panic rising in her eyes. “I’m...not pretty enough? I tried to look my best—I didn’t mean to disappoint. Please, don’t call this off…” 

The thought of being sent back as a failure made her stomach turn. Her family, her younger sisters, her grandmother—they all depended on her. 

Levi raised his hand, stopping her mid-sentence. “Oi, oi, relax. I didn’t mean that—damn it! I meant you look tired.” 

“But—” she hesitated, moving a step toward him but keeping her distance. 

“Shit,” he muttered, his cheeks warming slightly. “It has nothing to do with that.” 

Her confusion was clear, so he forced himself to say it: “You’re...pretty, alright? That’s not the issue.” 

She still looked uncertain. “If you don’t…claim me…what will people say?” she asked. “People will look down on you as a soldier, as a man...as an alpha.” 

Levi chuckled, though he didn’t mean it. “Well, one good thing about who I am is that everyone’s too scared to say anything to my face,” he replied, almost gently. “I just can’t—not while you’re this scared.” 

The truth hung in the air, and she resumed fidgeting with her ring, frowning as she looked at the carpet and her voice grew quieter. “What if…I never want to?” 

Levi shrugged, too tired to pretend. “Then I guess we’ll wait until next spring when we’re both so damn drunk on hormones, you’ll be begging for it, and neither of us will remember it.” 

"Spring?" she echoed, her caution mixed with disbelief. "But that’s a long wait..." 

“Oh, well,” he said, with a dry humor, “we’ll just have to try not to kill each other in the meantime.” He gestured to the room. “Go to bed.” 

"Where will you sleep?" she asked, then added, almost disappointed, "Do you... have someone else?" 

Not that she was jealous, but she’d heard that “a good wife always knows.” 

This time, the question made Levi scoff, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Good one. No, I don’t. I don’t even use the bed—I sleep at my desk.” 

‘That can’t be healthy,’ she thought, grimacing. But, like a mouse just freed by a cat, she walked cautiously toward the bedroom, unsure if this escape was real. That can’t be healthy, she thought with a grimace of disapproval. But with hesitant steps, like a mouse released from a cat’s grip, she headed toward the room, still unsure how real this escape was. 

Levi finished his drink, then readied himself to take his own shower, thinking, ‘It’s going to be a long, tense wait until next spring.’ 

A wait filled with mounting anxiety. 

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[silverynight]

Gym "buddies"

Izuku's life changes the moment All Might gives him his gym membership card; he assures him he doesn't need it anymore (he's retired after all) and wants him to use it instead.

Izuku is a quirkless young man whose job is making support gear and suits for pro heroes, however, since he often wears them and tries them himself, he likes to keep himself in good condition. So far, he's been training at home, but now he has the opportunity to go to a proper gym.

He thanks the symbol of peace, hugs him, and leaves with excitement in his eyes.

However, his enthusiasm vanishes when he arrives and realizes that there are only two kinds of people in that place: very rich ones and pro heroes.

And he doesn't belong to any of those groups. After a while he decides to stay since All Might even called the place to let them know Izuku was going instead of him.

He can't disappoint him now.

Nervous, he looks around only to see Uravity and Pinky talking happily to each other; part of Izuku wants to get closer to them and ask for an autograph, but he decides to control himself.

It's not like any of them could recognize him; the pro heroes don't have the time to go in person and ask for repairs to the support department, instead, they send assistants or people who work in their respective agencies to leave the suits.

Of course, there are exceptions, there always are.

"Midoriya!"

Izuku gets slightly startled as he notices Ingenium, waving at him before walking towards where he is.

He's one of the few heroes who has met Izuku.

"Ingenium-san, hi!"

"Please, we've talked about this, just call me Iida."

He nods, cheeks turning slightly pink as he notices the pro heroes around looking at them both with curiosity.

He relaxes as soon as Iida starts talking with him, asking about his job in general and answering Izuku's enthusiastic questions about his latest missions; he's used to those already.

The next day, Uravity introduces herself and upon realizing Izuku has worked on her hero suit, she starts looking at him with admiration and awe; he doesn't think there's anything about him worth admiring, but he doesn't point that out.

He gets to know a lot of pro heroes at that gym and none of them have tried to kick him out so far, even though he doesn't quite belong there.

Izuku's first week is amazing, and he believes there's nothing that can change his mind about it until the second week.

Turns out Dynamight goes to that gym too.

Actually, he's one of the current pro heroes Izuku admires the most, so Izuku is tempted to get closer at first, until he notices the explosive hero has been staring at him the whole time since he arrived.

He can't read the blond's expression, but he assumes Dynamight doesn't like him that much so Izuku decides to keep his distance from him.

He chooses a treadmill that's at the other side of the room to get started. Izuku takes a deep breath, relaxes, and closes his eyes for a few seconds until he hears someone pressing buttons on the treadmill next to him.

He almost falls off when he notices Dynamight. However, Izuku recovers quickly and decides to pretend nothing happened.

Although he swears he can feel the blond's red eyes on him the whole time.

After a while, he goes to one of the leg press machines before he notices that Dynamight is following him closely.

"You work for Hatsume."

Alright, now that he's talking to him, Izuku can't keep pretending he doesn't exist so he turns around to face him. The guy is not only taller but clearly stronger than him.

"Yes, I'm–"

"Midoriya Izuku, I know," Dynamight cuts him off, looking like he didn't mean to. His face turns a little bit pink.

"How do you know that?" He blurts out, genuinely curious.

The pro hero starts rubbing the back of his neck like he's nervous, and he looks away from Izuku for a moment before answering his question.

"I go to her lab often because I like to know exactly what's done to my suit," he admits. "I saw you for the first time a few months ago; Hatsume told me she had a new, very talented employee and that he was the one working on my gauntlets. I got closer to ask you personally what the hell you were doing to my stuff, but you were so happily focused I couldn't... interrupt you."

Izuku notices then, the fond smile curling up the corners of Dynamight's lips, and he regrets glancing at him because he looks very handsome when he actually smiles.

"Uhh..."

"I kept going after that, but you were always so focused on your work you never noticed me," the pro hero continues, pouting a bit. He's so used to the attention he probably doesn't like when he doesn't get it.

"I'm sorry, Dynamight-san..."

"I'm Katsuki, and I want you to call me by my name, Izuku."

His own name on the pro hero's lips sounds so intimate, Izuku blushes immediately. It's even worse when Katsuki notices and smirks at him.

"Ka..." Even trying it makes him feel flustered, so of course he immediately screws it. "Kacchan!"

The pro hero looks back at him in confusion and Izuku is seriously thinking about giving All Might his membership back and never going back to that place when Katsuki chuckles as he puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Fine, you can call me that if you want."

After that Katsuki always follows him whenever he's in the gym at the same time Izuku is; he even helps him when Izuku struggles to figure out new machines and makes a very intense workout routine for him.

Izuku is sure they're very good friends now, and he often laughs at his past self for believing Katsuki hated him.

He used to think he had a bad temper, but turns Bakugo Katsuki is a very sweet guy, although Izuku knows it's better not to say that out loud.

The most surprising thing about pro hero Dynamight is that he's rather clumsy, which is really weird considering he's so precise during his battles (Izuku has watched a few of those) but at the gym he's constantly dropping things and bumping into machines, especially when Izuku has his back on him and bends over to do a particularly difficult exercise.

It's so odd.

He hears a noise behind him and turns around only to find Katsuki on the floor, face red and a little bit of blood coming from one of his nostrils.

"Kacchan, are you alright?"

"He's fine, Midobro!" Kirishima grins, looking quite amused.

"What happened?"

"He got distracted by your... leggings."

Izuku looks at Red Riot in confusion before looking down at his legs; the leggings are not that bright, they're dark red and not flashy at all. He wonders what was that interesting about them that got Katsuki distracted.

"I see that leg day has been really good on you, bro," Kirishima points out, following Izuku's eyes. "You have very thick–"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, SHITTY HAIR!" Katsuki growls, rising from the ground before standing in the middle of Izuku and Kirishima. "Do you want to die?"

"Calm down, Bakubro!" Kirishima chuckles, looking quite relaxed. He's probably used to the other pro hero's displays of irritation. "I'm just being nice to our friend!"

"Fine!" Katsuki says, but he still pushes Izuku behind himself even more, although he does it gently.

***

After an intense workout routine, Izuku ends up on the floor, exhausted. A hand touches his forehead as a big shadow looms over him for a moment.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, just give me a second, Kacchan."

The same hand appears in front of him, and Izuku wakes it without hesitation. Before he can even blink, he's back on his feet already.

Katsuki hands him a bottle of cold water.

"Thank you!" It's been barely a month, but it feels like Katsuki has known him his whole life.

Sometimes it's like he can hear Izuku's thoughts.

"Come, nerd. I'll take you to your apartment."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I have time today."

Katsuki also pays him quick visits to Hatsume's lab, and he actually stays there and talks to him. Izuku takes his break whenever he appears.

"I'm glad you finally decided to talk to your crush," Hatsume tells him the first time the pro hero draws Izuku's attention by saying his name. "It was a bit sad to watch you pine and give him the heart eyes in silence."

"SHUT UP!"

"Kacchan, relax," he chuckles, as he notices him turning bright red at the young woman's words. "She's just joking!"

Because there's no way that's true. Hatsume probably just wants to piss Katsuki off. He'd never look at Izuku with love in his eyes.

It's ridiculous.

Usually, Hatsume doesn't like having pro heroes there, but she makes an exception with Katsuki because he helps them test new gear, especially the magnetic shields she has designed for some heroes.

Besides, she likes watching things explode.

Although the number of times Katsuki is there has led to some of Izuku's coworkers getting the wrong idea about them.

Even the pro heroes at the gym ask Izuku the weirdest questions every now and then.

"We're more like... gym buddies?" Even that sounds odd coming from his mouth, Izuku has no idea why.

"I think you're saying gym boyfriends wrong, sweetie," Ashido chuckles, prompting Kaminari to laugh too.

It's a good thing Katsuki is on patrol that day; he would've gotten mad.

"No, I'm serious," Izuku says, turning bright red. "We're just friends!"

"Wow, Bakugo is an idiot," Kaminari gives Ashido a weird look.

"He totally is!" She agrees. "Anyone could try to steal this cutie if he doesn't hurry up!"

Izuku wants to tell them that their relationship is not like that, but it seems that no matter what he says they're not going to change their minds; they seem to believe Katsuki is secretly in love with him or something.

He has no idea why.

***

Izuku meets pro hero Shoto one Thursday evening; he just finished his work and headed straight to the gym.

When he sees him, he gets immediately flustered. It's not every day one gets to meet Japan's number two pro hero after all.

"Hi. I don't think I have ever seen you before."

Pro hero Shoto is very blunt sometimes.

"I've been coming here since September... so, yeah, I'm practically new here," Izuku smiles, prompting the pro hero to do the same. "I'm Midoriya Izuku!"

"Oh," finally, something akin to recognition in those mismatched eyes. "I've heard your name before. You fixed my suit last time it got destroyed by a villain, right?"

"Yes, that'd be me!"

"You did a great job. I was very impressed."

"Thank y-you, pro hero Shoto!"

"Please, call me Todoroki or just Shoto, if you want."

"Izuku!" Katsuki calls as soon as he walks in the gym. "Come here, I need to bench press you right now!"

He does that a lot lately; he uses Izuku instead of the very expensive equipment around, Katsuki assures him it's better that way, but he's not sure about that.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Todoroki comments then. "There's plenty of things you can use instead of Midoriya."

"What the hell are you doing here, half and half?"

"Toya and the old man got into a fight again," he says like it's nothing that surprises him anymore. "They were in our private gym when it happened, so it's destroyed now. It'll take a couple of days for the people we called to leave it as it was before. That's why I'm here."

Izuku is sure Todoroki doesn't say it to show off, but now he gets an idea of how rich he actually is.

He's so impressed he doesn't notice Katsuki until he's in front of him, almost like he wants to shield him from the other pro hero.

"Come with me, Izuku."

Todoroki looks from one to the other with curiosity.

"Is it really better if you try it with a person?" He asks before looking over Katsuki's shoulders, directly at Izuku: "Can I bench press you too, Midoriya?"

"FUCK OFF, HALF AND HALF!"

***

Todoroki becomes a good friend of his; he keeps coming to same gym as Izuku even after the one in his house is complete again.

Although, Katsuki gets a bit tense whenever he the three of them hang out; Izuku is not sure why, Ashido assured him they were in good terms, sure they're rivals, but they are also friends.

"Do you like half and half?"

"Absolutely, he's a great friend!"

"I don't mean it like that, nerd," Katsuki gets slightly irritated, as he usually does when Izuku doesn't understand what he's trying to say. "I mean if you like him... romantically."

"Oh!" Izuku blushes; he doesn't talk about romance around the pro hero... ever, so he gets a bit nervous, well, it's actually because the one he finds very attractive is Katsuki, but he's not going to say that. "No, I only see Todoroki as a friend."

Katsuki relaxes after that; they finish their routines like nothing happened, but the tension comes back to his shoulders after they take a shower and get ready to leave the gym.

Looking down at the floor instead of him, Katsuki takes one of Izuku's hands in his to stop him.

"What is it, Kacchan?"

"Would you like to go for a coffee with me?"

"Of course, although we usually do that!"

This time, Katsuki looks into his eyes before continuing: "No, I mean... as a date."

For a second, Izuku thinks he's dreaming, but he wouldn't blush that much in one of his dreams; he's usually more confident.

"Yes, I'd love to!"

Katsuki gives him one of those happy, devastating smiles of his before intertwining their fingers together.

Izuku needs to call All Might and thank him for that membership again, but he'll probably do that later.

He has to focus on his date with Katsuki first.

***

Patreon

[cosmicjoke]

Levi never Glorified Violence and Never needed to be Taught a Lesson that Violence is Wrong:

Nothing makes me want to rip my hair out more than when I see clowns saying Levi was "blinded by revenge" over wanting to kill Zeke, that he was "too violent", and that's why he got blown up by the thunderspear.

It's such a deeply, fundamentally WRONG understanding of why Levi wanted to kill Zeke, and also, of why he ended up getting blown up. I've already spoken about the strategically sound reasoning behind Levi's actions, which you can read here, if you're interested: https://www.tumblr.com/cosmicjoke/746918499422781440?source=share But to summarize, Levi hooking Zeke to the thunderspear made perfect, logical sense within the context of Zeke's own actions and behavior up to that point. Zeke was someone who until then had engaged in tactics of deception and double-crosses, who had only killed others while at a safe distance and within the cocoon of his Titan form. Decidedly the actions and behavior of a coward. Levi had no, good cause to suspect Zeke would be willing to blow himself up to also take Levi out, and so his reasoning that the thunderspear would act as insurance against Zeke escaping while Levi was preoccupied with driving the cart back to the capital was a reasonable and logical conclusion for him to make. It wasn't a decision blinded by rage or an action taken in hast. Just like it was reasonable for Zeke to assume Levi would rather die than cut down his own comrades, because he knew of Levi's compassion. Both of them underestimated each other, and both of them paid for making assumptions about the other.

But further to the point, this whole idea that Levi was being "punished" for his violence is the stupidest shit I've ever seen. Because it basically posits that Levi glorified violence, and so needed to be "taught a lesson" that violence was wrong, when he's the one character in the story who NEVER did that. He never reveled in violence, he never tried to frame it as something good or desirable, or even tried to justify it. He always spoke about and treated violence for what it was, a means to an end and nothing more. He never tried to moralize it or excuse it. He was always completely objective about it.

Compare, for example, the matter of fact way Levi explains violence and killing to Armin and Jean, versus how Zeke frames his own actions of violence. Zeke calls his murder of people a "mercy". He frames it as a positive action which results in a positive, better outcome. He has a totally warped view of killing and violence because he tries to justify it and moralize it to himself and others. He tries to frame his violence as something which makes him a hero. Levi does no such thing. He tells Jean and Armin that he doesn't know if it's right or wrong to kill, only that if Armin hadn't killed that MP, they would all be dead, and that Armin can't go back to the person he was, because he's now taken human life. He isn't justifying it, or moralizing it, he isn't trying to spin it into something positive or good, or even into something bad or wrong. He's simply stating an objective truth and then telling the 104th that they need to make their own choice about what they believe is right and wrong in any, given situation.

Or compare the way Levi approaches torturing Sannes to how Hange does. Hange goes into that situation gung-ho at the idea of torturing Sannes, because she wants revenge on him for killing Pastor Nick. She thinks she'll enjoy torturing Sannes, and attempts to enjoy it by taking it to an extreme, only to realize she's getting no satisfaction at all from her cruelty. By comparison, Levi never does or even attempts to take pleasure in the act of torture. He approaches it as a means to an end, something he has to do in order to obtain the information they need to overthrow the current government. There's no justification in his mind, no excuse he tells himself to make himself feel better about it. He already knows it's horrible and ugly. He already understands perfectly the wretched reality of violence. Again, he's the ONLY character in the story who does, from start to finish. It's why Hange is so rattled and upset after torturing Sannes, because she thought it would be fun, only to learn it was anything but. Levi never thought it would be fun, he never expected it to be, never wanted it to be, and he never tried to convince himself that it was anything better than what it actually was. It's why we see his shocked expression when Hange engages in unnecessary cruelty by ripping one of Sannes' teeth out. He's always been the most objective character when it comes to violence. He's never labored under any belief that his violence made him a hero, and he never tried to glorify violence to anyone or told them they were heroes for killing.

It's also why Yelena says to him what she does, during the final arc, and the battle at the docks. Because she knows that he knows, better than anyone, the inherent violence of the human condition and the ugly reality of it. Yelena is trying to again push her fanatical belief in Zeke's antinatalist philosophy, by pointing out that people are always going to kill and be cruel to each other, and she makes the point to Levi specifically, because she knows Levi is the only one who'd already long ago understood and accepted that truth.

So this idea that Levi is this ultra-violent, revenge-obsessed lunatic that needs to be taught that "violence is bad" is fucking moronic, and I am SICK TO DEATH of seeing people perpetuate that bullshit take. I want to tell everyone who does to just shut the fuck up already, because they're actively damaging the perception people have of Levi's character every time they spew that garbage.

[bisexualiteaa]

Hello, Lover

Shadowheart x FemTav! Reader [MDNI!!]

CW: established romance, lesbian romance, slight game spoilers, brief mentions of religious trauma, fluffy themes, mentions of alc0hol, suggestive themes, talk of the female anatomy, mentions of f0replay, implied smut, slight deviance from the plot, slight OOC shadowheart, possible grammar/spelling errors, lightly proofread.

Synopsis: Shadowheart shows you a journal entry of the night after you taught her how to swim, showing her that perhaps you’d opened her eyes to more than just how to swim that night.

Words in bold are her writing. Enjoy! 🖤

It was a night like most on the road to Baldur’s Gate, one rested on the same old bedroll you’ve been using since it all started. Resting atop the dirt and cobble beside the dim light of the campfire’s hearth. It was just before you were bunking down for the night that you stopped by Shadowheart’s tent as you normally do.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” she spoke flirtatiously as you strode up to her, delighted smile on her face to match her tone. You could only smile the same in return, offering a slight giggle in response. “Say’s you, how are you faring?” You asked, genuinely wishing to know how she was feeling after such a long, and emotionally taxing day. “The same as everyone else I’m sure. Tired, anxious, ready to get this tadpole out of my head. Although, I will miss eavesdropping on your thoughts once it’s gone” she teased, making you chuckle. “Nothing a simple detect thoughts spell couldn’t cure, and with less…tentacles for side effects. Though bold of you to assume I wouldn’t just tell you” you replied in kind, making her hum with delight at your response. “True. Speaking of reading thoughts, I have something to show you, if you have a moment?” She asked, reminding you truly of just how far along she’s come and how close you have gotten for her to voluntarily tell you such a thing. “For you? Always” you replied, despite its cliche nature, making her laugh.

You followed her into her tent, ever curious of what she was wishing to show you. For a moment you’d thought she wanted you to link minds with her via the tadpole to show you a memory, but your questions were answered upon watching her pick up a book instead. Only then did your mind begin to form other questions, ones you knew would be answered soon. As she brought out the book, she also grabbed a carafe of wine and two glasses for you to share, a nightly ritual you both have begun to indulge in together as opposed to indulging apart. “Are you wanting to read me a bed time story?” You asked teasingly, but as you watched her sit down before you, you realized maybe you had been correct in that assumption. “Actually? Yes” she replied, patting the space next to her as a gesture for you to join. One you were quick to heed.

As you sat down next to her, she poured wine into the goblet next to you before pouring some into her own. “Fancy, are we starting a book club?” You asked, making her laugh. “While that doesn’t sound unpleasant, the wine is more for me to drown out my embarrassment” she replied, making you look to her as she handed you the book. Upon closer inspection it appeared to be a journal of sorts, and that’s when you put the pieces together. She was showing you her journal. Her personal journal. “I’ve carried this with me since nearly the very beginning of our journey together. I was told by someone once that journaling could help heal, allow you to look back on yourself and see how you’ve grown” she stated. “Well, one night I’m afraid I had too much wine and fancied myself a writer. I thought you might enjoy it” she finished, making you look back down to the leather cover that has certainly seen better days before it’s time spent with you all on the road. “Are you sure? It’s a personal thing, I can understand if you’d rather keep it to yourself” You asked. “As much as I would, I think this is simply too good not to share” she said playfully, making you giggle with her as you had a sip of your wine.

As you opened it, you marveled at her handwriting. It was elegant, the ink neatly applied to the pages without so much as a smudge and smelled faintly of wine, flowers and something a little deeper. Just like her. The first handful of pages were the typical journal entries, recounting the earlier days of your travel together. As you pressed further however, you stumbled upon a few pages of something different. Poetry. It was something you wouldn’t have guessed she’d have dabbled in, but her writings were delightful and well spoken nonetheless. “I didn’t think you to be a poet” you said playfully, turning to her as she sat next to you, reading the pages over your shoulder. “I didn’t either, you’re quite the inspiration” she said, making a heat rise to your cheeks in fluster at her compliment. “Keep going, it gets better” she said, making you turn through the pages in search for the one she seemed to be pointing you in the direction of. Page after page of poetry, attempted love letters, attempted notes, you’d finally stumbled across an entry that seemed to be the one she was trying to show you.

You looked to her before reading it, almost as if asking her permission only to earn a gentle “go on” in response. You saw the date of the entry, remembering it to be the night in which you shared in one another for the first time. The night you taught her how to swim.

How lovely she is. To think she was nothing but a stranger not that long ago, and to know now that she owns my whole heart, is truly the most unexpected gift. You read, your heart feeling warm in your chest as you read it, bringing a smile to your face. Now as I gaze upon her, watching as her frame sits beside the campfire, all I can think is how I love her. How the fire emits a golden glow against her skin, how it dances in her eyes that have had me transfixed. Her gaze which sends my heart to a frenzy. She makes even the smallest things seem so simple, so easy, reminding me that nothing is impossible. you continued to read, feeling your chest swell at the thought of her finding you so inspiring, that she looked up to you. That she trusted you. It was a gift you would never take for granted.

Today, she taught me how to swim. While the others were asleep, her and I snuck off down the coast a little to the water. I could still feel the cold, dark hands of the shadowfell all over me, could still hear the vile whispers of Shar in my ears. I’d felt unclean. She apologized to me as if it were her fault, as if she hadn’t brought me to the light. As if she hadn’t seen more within me and guided me to the much happier path I now lead. There was something I knew that would help that feeling go away, and I knew more than anything that I wanted to experience it with her. So as we made it to the beach, I sprung upon her a swimming lesson, telling her to strip of her clothes to join me. If I was to do this, I most certainly wasn’t going to be going in it alone. Yet I knew I needn’t fear, despite her shocked expression, she indeed joined me. Though I will admit, I rather enjoyed watching her undress before me, a detail I’m sure hadn’t gone unnoticed. you read, making you chuckle to yourself a little. “My, you have quite the way with words, how come you never tell me such things in person?” you said, making her flush a little as she read that last line with you. “Like I said, perhaps I was a glass too many in. Besides, what fun would it be if I told you all the time? Your ego would be far too big” she replied, making you both laugh. “Trust me, it gets better” she added, so of course you turned your attention back to the book.

I watched as she turned around, her hands grasping at the bottom of her shirt before pulling it over her head. I wished she hadn’t, getting to see her in all her glory is something I’ve spent a fortnight thinking about. However, in that moment, the saying “good things come to those who wait” spoke volumes. Soon I watched her glance at me over her shoulder with a flirtatious grin, one I could only return in kind before watching her bend down to strip herself of her pants and leathers. Gods she’s marvelous. Watching her hands run down her hips as she undressed herself left me almost jealous. How I craved to touch her in that moment, to run my hands along her frame, to watch as a blush would tint her cheeks at the closeness. It was then I knew that tonight was to be the night. You you continued to read, feeling a heat rise up your neck to your cheeks. You picked up your goblet and brought it to your lips for a sip, making a sound of intrigue at the passage you’d just read. “This is good” you said, earning a chuckle from her as she rested her chin against your shoulder, taking the occasional sip from her own glass.

It was as her eyes trailed my form, standing bare before her that I’d never felt so vulnerable. She gazed upon me like I once used to look upon every statue of Shar. With worship. It send tingles beneath my skin and gooseflesh along my body. I was vulnerable, but I wasn’t alone. I remember her telling me that I looked beautiful, almost seeming to take the words from my mouth that I wished to tell her. It’s certainly a moment I will never forget. The way her gaze fell on me caused a burning ache within me I fear I may never rid of. Nor do I want to.

She led me into the water, her hand gently enveloped in mine, helping me tread deeper and deeper into the depths of the water. It was cold, bitterly cold. The sort of cold that chills you to the bone, yet I’d felt so energized. I remember when my feet no longer touched the bottom, no longer feeling the sand beneath my feet. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. Just a moment prior I doubted I’d be able to even enter, but with her there with me, I knew I could do it. All she could do was watch and smile, as if silently cheering me on. Though I could sense there was more than that in her gaze. Before I could come up with something truly witty, she splashed me with the water, making me turn and laugh before I retaliated with the same. Taking it in stride, as she does with most everything it seems, she leaned back into the water, dipping her full body into it before rising back up, leaving me to sit and admire her.

Her hair was now damp, slicked back from her face as water cascaded down her neck to her chest, trailing between her bosom. Her nipples sat hard from the frigid temperature, a symptom I no doubt shared in. It made her all the more ethereal. It was then that I could no longer keep denying myself, if she would have me, I would have her. And have me she did. you continued, enjoying her recounting of your moment together.

I beckoned her closer, watching her swim to me to close the distance between us. Her hands came to rest against my hips beneath the water, and suddenly all fear was lost. She pulled me close, her eyes searching mine, waiting perhaps for me to make the next move. So I did. The feel of her plush, soft lips against mine will always be the perfect remedy. Suddenly the water wasn’t so cold anymore, perhaps it was the heat of her skin against mine, or the warmth rising within me from the contact. I’ll never be sure, but I knew then that I didn’t want the night to end. Not just yet anyway. She taught me that I could face anything on my own, that I could do it without Shar. In that moment my heart and soul felt truly free. No longer did I need to worry of Mother Superior and her demands, or of doing all the things that would appease her, I could instead focus on my own happiness, my own life.

I hadn’t imagined she would take me on the beach that night, or how enjoyable it would be. I’d read stories of lovers intertwining upon the sand as the sun would rise or set, but this was nothing like that. It was better. There was little fear of us being out in the open, we were far from our companions back at camp, and far enough away from town to be happened across. Despite the pebble beneath me, nothing stopped us from showing each other how we really feel. Her kisses lit my skin ablaze, feeling her bare skin against mine as she sat atop of me only made me want her even more. It was heaven the way she littered them down my neck, leaving my eyes to flutter shut as she made her way to my chest. There her hand toyed with one, as her lips indulged the other, her fingers pinching and rolling my sensitive bud as her tongue circled the other. How it had been so long since I’d been touched like that, how it had been so long since anyone stoked the embers brewing within my belly. With her they rose to flames, cascading through my veins like lava.

If her lips were soft and sweet, her tongue was most certainly the most sinful indulgence I’d ever partaken in. Her gaze fell upon me as she descended, her lips pressing sweet butterfly kisses along my skin as she moved, soon her tongue was dragging along my stomach before she was resting between my thighs. Her eyes looked up at me for permission, I’ll never forget the fire in her eyes. The look of being wholly and completely desired by someone. Nothing compares to that feeling. Nothing compares to her. Her heart, her mind, her bravery, her surprisingly…dexterous nature. As I bunk down tonight, I know I will dream of the way she held me, dream of the way her hands ghosted my body, how she brought me pleasure in ways I’d never been given before. Most of all, I’ll dream of the life we will have together after this adventure comes to an end, my only hope is that she shares that same dream. You finished reading, a smile resting on your lips as you turned to her. “You’re quite the romantic when you’re wine drunk” you quipped playfully. “You pest, I’m a romantic all the time” she joked in return, making you both laugh as you set the journal to the side. “That was lovely” you said turning to her, smiling as a slight blush creeped to her cheeks. “Do you really think so?” She asked timidly, almost as if she was shocked to hear it. “I do, your writing is quite elegant. You speak of our romance in the way poets and bards dream to encapsulate in their writings. Hells, I’d go as far to say you even put Gale’s verbosity to shame” you said, making her giggle again as she rested her head against your shoulder, both of you having well cleared through the entire carafe of wine by now.

“Tell me, did you dream of me that night?” You asked, making her grin as you grabbed her empty goblet from her hand and placed it to the side with your own. “Bold of you to assume, but yes, I did. You?” She asked, curiosity in her tone. “Every night. I often think back to that night, or to the night we shared after the tiefling party when we saved them. I think of you always because I share that same dream” you answered, grabbing her hand in yours with a delighted smile. “Good, because I don’t want this to end” she replied, looking to you as she said it, making you chuckle. “I’d never dream of it” you replied truthfully. “Best not, and that’s a threat, not a warning” she quipped in response, making you laugh before you pulled her in for a soft, sweet kiss. “Shall I prove it to you like I did that night?” You asked, making her grin into it. “I thought you’d never ask” she replied, her arms wrapping around you before she pulled you down with her as she fell to her back. Neither of you got even a wink of sleep that night, but it was well worth it.

[atheneum-of-you]

I've talked a lot about priest/ priestesshood on my blog recently as well as my journey as a priestess in training for Lord Hermes. (I promise I'll post other stuff as well this has just become the forefront of my life recently and I enjoy sharing my journey!)

With that in mind, I wanted to share what it's like deciphering card pulls with Hermes, particularly when it comes to tasks. As I've started in a couple of previous posts, tasks are basically your training and given to you by your god to strengthen your skills with them and teach you how to work under them. It's similar to job training.

The Cards

Before I ask for my tasks, I like to ask him if he has any messages for me, typically a 1 or 2 card pull. I was immediately given the Sword card.

The card represents birthright and purpose. I had taken this as another small confirmation that priestesshood was the right path for me (as I had done a small tarot reading for myself earlier saying something similar). I had no clue that he had drawn the card for a meaning I would only figure out later, but with that now in mind, I moved on. I asked for my next task for him and drew the following cards:

I was a little surprised to see 2 cards from my last task reappear (the fields and the cottage in the woods) and at first glance of the cards I assumed it would be another Demeter message (as it is winter it would make sense for her to be particularly active). But the crossroads stumped me. The crossroads are typically associated with Hecate, not Demeter. Additionally, I didn't draw the Herald card (Hermes's card), so I wasn't entirely sure if this was a message to be delivered. Did Hecate want to speak with me directly? But why draw the Pair card? Hecate is a trio goddess.

Epithets

The cards stumped me for a while and I ended up leaving the task incomplete, deciding it'd be best to revisit with a clearer head (I was dealing with a lot yesterday).

As I woke up this morning, I looked to my references to find a suitable epithet of Hermes to pray to this morning. And while looking, I noticed one specifically that piqued my interest. One I wasn't aware of before.

Hermes Trikephalos.

Hermes of road-intersections. Hermes three headed.

Hermes has a crossroads association.

Suddenly my cards started to slowly piece together. The crossroads card was never about Hecate, Hermes is the god of travel, the messenger of gods. ALL gods, including the chthonic. I didn't need the Herald card, he had represented himself using an epithet he wanted me to learn.

Interpreting the Cards

I had learned from my previous task that Hermes doesn't always use the cards' intended meaning when giving me my tasks, so I always observe the cards themselves and the picture they create before interpreting them individually. I almost exclusively use this deck for Hermes because it's a panoramic deck, meaning when put together, the cards can form a much larger image:

While naturally everything doesn't line up perfectly, it does create a scene. A pair (which I immediately considered lovers) overlooking a field and home in isolation. Across from the home (a little distance away), a goddess statue points to a crossroads. I'd already established that the crossroads card signified Hermes, but it was more than that. The crossroads represent the intersection between our world and the gods' and are heavily associated with the chthonic gods. It represented a goddess at the crossroads, her back turned to a lonely field that she overlooked with her lover.

Suddenly, it all made sense. The cards spoke of Persephone, leaving the mortal fields of her mother's (hence me drawing both cards of Demeter's from my last reading) and making her descent back into the Underworld. My task was not a message to deliver, but a study session.

The Completed Task

I had learned a new epithet oh Hermes, had learned how to read my cards without using the actual meanings of them, and learned how to read them as a vision/ story. Sometimes, my duties as a messenger will involve me needing to not observe the strict meaning of the cards and instead interpreting them as a vision. Similar to skrying.

I was fully prepared to run around trying to figure out what message to give to who, but this was an absolute blast to decipher. Hermes's tasks tend to be criptic and very much as a combination of games. Clue, Guess Who, word association, puzzles, riddles, etc. He makes you have to think critically and outside of the box and purposely tries to stump you. Things won't mean what you think they mean, and it turns into a battle of wit, and if he can successfully outsmart you. And your job as his underling is to not let him. Honestly, I think if I were using any other deck, I'd be pulling my hair out.

I revisited the Sword card from earlier and realized it had a whole new meaning. It wasn't just confirmation. He was telling me to be sharp, and to always be ready for his tricks and games. And I'll be moving forward with that in mind from here on out.

This is what it's like, training under Hermes. And it's the most fun I've had in years.

[la-pheacienne]

I hope this doesn’t come across as rude, but I was looking through your Lyanna/Rhaegar tag, and I struggle with this pairing. I enjoy it sometimes, but a few things just don’t add up for me. It’s often framed as Lyanna leaving of her own agency and Rhaegar choosing love over duty, but realistically, it feels like he unintentionally set her up to fail. I say this due to the North being largely isolated from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. So, while Lyanna probably had some idea of southern dynamics—especially since she was about to marry into a southern family—understanding them is one thing, but actually navigating that world would be completely different. Ultimately, Lyanna would have a hard time thriving. I personally don’t think they got married, so if they had survived, she would have borne the brunt of it—her reputation ruined, potentially raising a child viewed as a bastard and a potential threat. Even if Rhaegar stayed committed, what if he eventually fell out of love or died? She would have no inheritance, and her security would be entirely dependent on Rhaegar and his family’s favor. She could return to her own family (if they weren’t declared traitors), but she’d still have to rely on them. She’s never truly independent; it’s like she left one cage only to enter another, all in the name of love. And it seems as if her agency doesn’t extend beyond that single choice. Logically, this just doesn’t sit right with me. It’s still a compelling story, but I don’t think Lyanna would thrive in this situation if they survived.

This is a continuation of my previous ask. Let’s look at this a bit more critically. In canon, Rhaegar takes Lyanna to the Tower of Joy in Dorne, guarded by three Kingsguard. Now, why would he do that? Dorne is HIS wife’s homeland, yet he brings Lyanna to the opposite end of the country, to his wife’s territory. Paired with the three Kingsguard, it seems likely he did this because he saw Lyanna as a flight risk. Rhaegar controlled whether she stayed or left. He even controlled her basic needs—her food, shelter, safety, clothing. She had no money to secure these things independently, and the Kingsguard weren’t loyal to her; they answered only to Rhaegar. Now, I do believe Lyanna left consensually, but to her own detriment. Even if she attempted to escape, she’d have little chance of surviving the Dornish desert, and that’s assuming she could even find help. Let’s say she did make it out of the desert—she’d then be in Dorne, likely pregnant with the child of the Dornish princess’s husband, in the middle of a rebellion. Do you really think the Dornish would sympathize and help her return? Her family had been declared traitors, and Dorne was loyal to the crown. They would most likely refuse to assist her and certainly wouldn’t help her get back. Lyanna Stark had no real agency. She might have felt free in moments, and perhaps things between them were good enough that she didn’t question it at the time. But it’s hard to believe Rhaegar didn’t understand this dynamic on some level. Why not take her to Dragonstone, his own property? There, he had full control without the complexities of hiding her in his wife’s homeland.

You don't come across as rude at all. But I'm afraid I can't help you much with this.

I'm not saying there is no power imbalance between a crown prince and a 16 yo high born maiden, I just don't think the parameter of power imbalance between them plays/will play a significant role in the way the story unfolds. I don't think the author had that in mind and I don't think the complexity/nuance of Rhaegar and Lyanna's situation stems from that. The dynamic you are describing, one of a predator and a prey, isn't particularly nuanced or rich to me, it's basically just Robert's take with a feminist twist. You can absolutely read the story like that, but I don't. The way I see it, Lyanna was betrothed to a piece of shit and she knew that, she met Rhaegar who was the antithesis of her betrothed, they bonded, they fell in love, she wanted him, she chose him and she ran away with him and stayed with him until the very end. That was her agency. It sucks that the social norms in universe would never let them be happy together, for the reasons you state. But that is a tragedy that stems from external factors (traditions, socia conventions and moral code), not something that can be attributed to Rhaegar specifically, imo. That is a reason for the reader to feel sorry for the couple, not necessarily criticize their decision. Also, you repeatedly state how Lyanna could not possibly thrive in this situation while forgetting Lyanna's circumstances prior to her meeting Rhaegar. Lyanna running away with a man she chose is precisely her exerting her agency, which fits with her wilful personality the way Ned portrays it. Whether we ideologically agree with this or not, for women in this pseudomedieval context, choosing their own lover/husband against their families wishes is the best marker of independence, and it is considered as such in the collective consciousness that the author is probably tapping into, at least to my understanding. In this context the choice of a partner is not just any choice and Lyanna's arc being so tightly linked to that choice does not diminsh her character to my eyes. Her story has truth to me even if it doesn't satisfy some generic requirements of media portrayal of female empowerment.

If we absolutely have to get all technical then no, Lyanna did not have a full time job, health insurance or social security. I technically can't disagree with you on that, I just don't personally find it interesting or relevant.

"Dorne is HIS wife’s homeland, yet he brings Lyanna to the opposite end of the country, to his wife’s territory. Paired with the three Kingsguard, it seems likely he did this because he saw Lyanna as a flight risk".

That is a guess. I have my own. Since we are so meticulous with the in universe details, let me just say that we don't actually know what the KG were doing with Lyanna. Were they keeping her imprisoned because of the "flight risk", or were they protecting her from her dumbass brother who wanted to hand her over like a trophy to his dumbass abusive and rapist BFF, a man she had already specifically declared she did not want or appreciate and who happened to be hunting her down? (We coincidentally see Ned regret his decision to arrange Lyanna's marriage to Robert for an entire book btw). Were they keeping her imprisoned or were they protecting her from Aerys who would probably want to capture her like he captured Elia and her kids? Many questions. Also, why did they hide in Dorne? Because Rhaegar knew Lyanna had nowhere to go in a 'hostile" Dorne in case she wanted to escape, or because Elia was already in the know and Dorne was loyal to Rhaegar and remained loyal to Rhaegar even after Elia's death so he knew that Lyanna would be better protected there? Idk, these are just blind guesses. So many possibilities, and you choose the most boring one.

Also, the what ifs do not interest me. "What if Rhaegar fell out of love", but that didn't happen in the story we're reading. Rhaegar is not a real person. He is a fictional character in a fictional story with specific plot points and a specific ending, serving as a vehicle for a broader theme. And grrm didn't write about a man who fell out of love and dumbed his lover in the middle of the desert. If he wanted to write that story he would have. Instead, he wrote about a man who died because he fell in love. So I'd rather focus on that since that's what actually happened.

The way I see it, you're trying to say that this pairing is not supposed to be a love story because of the power imbalance/Rhaegar's callousness/Lyanna's recklessness but what you truly mean is "I personally do not care about any of the major themes that are at play with this fictional couple because I personally can't forget/forgive/put aside their power imbalance/Rhaegar's callousness/Lyanna's recklessness which I believe are more important and overshadow the general themes of this story ". To that I disagree.

[fazcinatingblog]

a doctor could easily dissect everything i eat and be like "well, it's definitely caused by all this chocolate" and i'll still die on the hill that my stomach cramps were due to the entire pack of hot dogs consumed this week (some of those were on BREAD which i also blame)

[homielander]

shiv's motivations for voting to pass the gojo deal are so layered and i don't think they should be dismissed in favour of any one interpretation. shiv desperately grabbed on to a lifeline for her relationship with tom. shiv was the deciding vote and she couldn't bear to hold the crown only for a moment just to place it atop her brother's head. shiv knew she would have more influence as wife of CEO rather than sister of CEO. shiv absolutely hated seeing kendall crystallize into logan before her eyes, especially when he made roman bleed ("and if we did kill him we get to go to bed") -- succession has always been about siblings so of course she tried to free her brothers before her child. shiv still thinks she can raise her child with all the material benefits of being the daughter of waystar CEO while doing better by her, whatever that means. and all of those things are true

[brittlebutch]

the thing is, you’re absolutely right! because what neurotypical people sometimes don’t understand is the massive difference between the average level of social interaction that they themselves vs other people get outside of organized or scheduled events like work or school, and also don’t understand the massive difference between what failure looks like, and how those two things overlap. i’m told that among the average neurotypical person, they’ll make a point to talk to people in their lives or hang out with friends or go on dates or chat with other people in public spaces, al to have casual interactions, multiple times a day, multiple days a week. meaning, if they have a failed social interaction, it’s buffered by the many successful interactions they’ll go on to have. failure most likely won’t mean complete isolation, because they have multiple avenues of interaction to fall back on. and, moreover, a failure in a social interaction when you have (on average) fewer than most means that now rather than that person going “oh that was a weird interaction, i talk to them a lot and it’s not usually like that, maybe it was an off day” they go “huh i don’t know that person very well maybe they’re just like that?”, which means that the odds are way different on whether relationships stay good after mistakes.

social skills are not actually as inherent as neurotypical people like to think. it’s just that when you’re always in practice, always getting back on the proverbial horse, the advice “just get back out there!” does actually work very well. but if you’re not able to do that for any variety of reasons, you can’t play the game the same way. my advice is not “try harder”, it’s “lower your expectations for yourself on what a good interaction and a moment of connection might be”. just as it’s possible you’re somehow unintentionally upsetting people, it’s possible you’re unintentionally making them feel happy, or valued, or heard, even in small, passing interactions. remind yourself that you’re working with fewer resources and a much more limited data pool. a lot of the advice being given is coming from someone who assumes they understand what the math looks like for you, because it’s very difficult to imagine that other side. so instead of trying to overlay a system made for someone who has resources that you just don’t have, you need to figure out what a functional system of interaction looks like for you, and adapt the advice given to fit your situation. my advice, bearing that in mind, is that finding communities and groups can look like a lot of different things, and getting your social needs met can come from a lot of sources, and ideally should! you would understand best what your situation is, and there’s no shame in changing tact to accommodate for your own needs and boundaries.

forgot to answer this for a bit lol BUT yeah, the post was a little bit more about the Conceptual argument than it was about me specifically, so I'm definitely already with you re: 'finding out what your Individual social goals are and working based off of those instead having high expectations based off of other people's metric' stuff. You definitely have a huge point with the "social buffer disparity" between NT people and ND people, where failures are both less demoralizing internally and less impactful externally when you're able to have a greater average of interactions generally also

but I really appreciated the "just as it’s possible you’re somehow unintentionally upsetting people, it’s possible you’re unintentionally making them feel happy, or valued, or heard, even in small, passing interactions" aspect of this message. I do definitely have a recurring problem of like, labeling Myself as an Uncanny Valley Person and automatically assuming that every interaction I'm involved in must be some level of uncomfortable for the other person -- it actually was kind of a revolution moment reading this and realizing that OH it does make sense that if I can unintentionally make people uncomfortable, it's statistically just as likely that I can unintentionally lift people's spirits in one way or another! So thank you very much for that!!

[aria0fgold]

I was wondering a lil bit bout when I got sent to my sister's place alone and I was in such a peaceful state despite the lack of a pc for nearly a week but then I got back to my mom's place and it feels like my patience was shorter for whatever reason. And now that the whole family is at sister's place I get it now. I understand what's different. My mom.

[naughtdeer]

I got called a strange, gay, little man last night because I arranged my battleships in a confusing way to my opponent, and if that isn't a compliment I don't know what is.

[britneyshakespeare]

i have been working with kids for four years and i had to write my first ever note just now about a seventh grade boy being inappropriate towards me. i don't know what the hell this could possibly lead to or what. he was trying to feel my legs repeatedly to the point where i had to stop sitting next to him (and i was subbing for his one-to-one para!!!). he's got high support needs. in that kind of job, you're supposed to sit next to them all day and look over their work.

the teacher whose classroom this was happening in could also tell something was wrong. the whole class was acting kinda crazy because it was the day before school vacation week and there was another class coming in to share projects. so like, he was swamped with keeping order already. but we were sitting two feet away from his podium at the front of the room. the kid was giving him and me a hard time when he wouldn't take out his chromebook as he was instructed. and then when he did take out his chromebook, he immediately, for some reason, places it on my lap. he had been ogling my legs the whole time. he puts his computer ON MY LAP. and i'm just like, stunned, because what the hell? can you not keep it on your own lap, for some reason? i don't even know what to say, i just hold it a little above my lap while i'm thinking why on earth would this be happening? he would NOT do this to his regular para if she were here, would he? this can't be normal.

and the teacher sees this and within a minute places a stool in front of the kid for him to put his laptop on. and i'm like. oh ok. yeah. he notices exactly what's happening and that that's not appropriate. and then when the other class comes in to share projects he tells me "miss b——, you don't actually have to sit next to c—— this whole period if you don't want to." and he grabs me a chair for me to go sit with the other paras in the back opposite corner of the room. like he KNEW. and thank you mr. d—— for recognizing that because i was just kind of shocked and didn't know if i was overreacting in my head to all of this.

when there's a point in the class where the kids are discussing stuff, i privately mention what's happened to the para who's sitting closest to me. and she says that the thing about him calling me pretty is something he's been known to do, but the fact that he kept trying to touch my legs is new behavior. and that's a completely different class of behavior. i was telling him NO, don't do that, and he kept doing it. and the fact that he was calling me pretty repeatedly, even when i was giving him instructions that he wasn't taking. and this is the second to last class before the end of the day, so she says she'll take a walk with him before learning center and talk to him about it, and i'm grateful for that. she does. the kid apologizes to me as soon as i come into learning center. but like. WHAT the hell.

i'm STILL like what the hell. this is unfathomable to me. the other adults who i told about this or who witnessed it were supportive of me. but. what to do??? i wrote a long note to his regular para about this, because i knew she was going to hear about it at least from the first para i told. the second para i told about it after school had a kind of... i'm not gonna say enabling reaction, but i suppose since it had already been "taken care of" (or at least, he had been spoken to and apologized) she didn't really have much to add in the way of discipline. i told her what happened after school and she was just like... a little bit, laughing? like oh, yup, that dog. she at the very least confirmed he KNEW what he was doing, that that was not an accident. she said to me "i had a feeling he was going to develop a crush on you" (me and these other paras were together for most of the beginning of the day too). but it's like. it's not about that.

i have worked with children for FOUR years. children have had crushes on me before; i'm quite unfazed by it. boys from the ages of 5-to-15 have told me i'm so pretty before and asked me to marry them. i've never had them feeling up my legs before. i've never had them making me physically uncomfortable. it's NOT about this seventh grader having a crush on the pretty substitute. he is NOT unusual for that, at all. but i've never had a boy of any age or education level repeatedly touching my knees and thighs. THAT is problem behavior!!!

because what if i wasn't assertive enough with him to tell him to stop? what if i was a girl his age? worse, what if i was an adult who encouraged this behavior? i don't come to the middle school to be a seductress. i had no intention in putting on a pair of tights and a skirt this morning of being viewed as an attractive object, especially not by a pubescent boy. what if i did though? what if his interpretation of me wasn't so incorrect and offensive? what if i let him keep touching me inappropriately and saying flirtatious things to me? me, an adult in my mid-twenties, towards a middle school boy?

in no world would that be ok. if i had been feeling up and overly-complimenting a CHILD at my place of work, holy shit would there be reports about me. so a child acting that way could never be ok either. if it'd be firable for me to be reciprocating that action, then that action should not be happening to me. ever. and that child should never repeat that action again to any other adult again.

like i am simply not there to be treated as an attractive young woman. i put on a skirt that shows too much knee and get paired with a boy, though, and that's apparently just a natural consequence. hooo-ly shit. like i don't know what to do. first of all, the more time passes since this has happened, the more i am just unable to stop thinking about it. i wasn't "hurt" or too emotional in the moment but i'm just still processing it and it gets worse. i'm just more and more disgusted.

i don't know what i expect to come out of this, or the email i sent to his regular para. like, am i gonna have to attend a fucking meeting? what is the precedent that this sets for him? WHY do i feel BAD for him about this? well, because he's a child, of course. a child who has done wrong he may not be able to understand. but he knows WHAT he did. he just doesn't know WHY it was wrong.

and i couldn't even say something to him that was like, "well, how would you like it if i was touching you like this?" because young boys do not understand how inappropriate it'd be. i'm sure this kid thought he was gonna get away with what he was doing at the very least. but probably not unlikely he (being a child with no concept of how wrong it'd be) thought he could get some sort of "positive" attention for treating me like this. either way he was simply doing what he wanted to do, with no perspective of how it would make me feel or that it could be classified as harassment. teenage boys think it'd be awesome if the older attractive woman would reciprocate their affections. they're wrong. i, as the older attractive woman of his affection, cannot be the one to convince him of that, though.

i don't know. i don't know. like it's just so not ok. but if i didn't tell another adult about this, he would've gotten away with it. he would probably do it again. and him being in trouble for it is not the same as him understanding that it was wrong. unless someone has a REAL talk with him about inappropriate attention and consent, it's not unlikely that he'll just repeat the behavior in a setting where he thinks he won't be caught or told on. THAT'S the problem. me, i could just never have to be this boy's para again. in my email, i didn't say that i would never be ok working with or around him ever again. he already knows i didn't like it and i'm not afraid to tell on him; as far as that lesson applies to me, individually, i think he's become too ashamed to repeat that.

i don't know. i don't know. i very much expressed that i, i guess, "forgave" him in the email that i wrote. i clarified that i was writing it for the sake of having it on the record. i think that could potentially be very important for the purposes of preventing further similar or escalating behavior from him in the future. i don't want him to be in trouble. i don't think i will be blamed for this, especially not with how promptly i acted, although i don't know to what extent this will be framed as me thinking i'm a "victim." i'm not... i don't feel victimized. i feel disgusted. i feel afraid for the sake of what could happen to or with him in the future, if he thinks behavior like his towards me today is ok.

i feel like if i end up having to further respond to this, this will be made about me. in a way it kind of was. is? in the moment it was happening, it was certainly about me. because i was the one this boy was giving all this unwanted attention to. but to make the consequences of this about me and to involve me any further, i also don't want. because i said what i said already, i don't care if a student has a crush on me. this isn't about me being the pretty substitute. i'm the pretty substitute all the time, to tons of people. that's not really something i've been concerned about up until now.

but do i have to reexplain my personal embarrassment? that i was wearing a skirt? that he was ogling my legs? really? what more do i have to gain from sharing that, other than having the adults at my place of work confirm or deny me in their heads as the pretty substitute? i don't know. perhaps that's REALLY overthinking it. but i don't want to be the substitute that caused a problem for this special ed kid. i don't wanna be the reason that he can't be around me anymore, the person people think of when they're monitoring how he's acting around girls and young women. i DON'T want to be the one people think of when they think of his past misbehavior. i'm NOT here for that.

that's just fucking humiliating. and in this being a thing that could follow him, i have to be ogled and touched over and over again in people's minds for this to be taken seriously. but for this to be swept under the rug would be even worse, no? i don't know. i hate this. the principal is a nice guy; i wouldn't be surprised if he and/or people from the special ed department reached out to me sympathetically about this. but i don't wanna be reached out to. i don't wanna have ppl i work with tell me "sorry that kid was just so attracted to you he couldn't help himself" like come on. if the kid himself doesn't change then i don't really care to remember this incident. and no one reaching out to me and saying they've talked to this kid will actually prove to me he understands. this is the kind of inappropriate behavior it takes years for people to understand why it was wrong, especially a child who has no idea. i mean come on.

[shinychopshopwizar]

this is just a random thought ive had in the back of my mind when i first got into yellowjackets so be nice but like. something something jackie & shauna are quinn fabray variants (to ME) and quinn is somehow a combination of jackieshauna's worst individual traits

[arolesbianism]

You know, I think the reason I've never been big on the idea of Abigail not actually being Abigail is because it's just so much more fun and fucked up if it Is Abigail and it's partly because of the whole watching your twin die over and over, but it's also because holy shit does Wendy say some shit that sucks so bad to say when Abby is literally Right Next To Him. Like imagine your fucking twin constantly talking about you like you're not there, all while also being constantly held up as the only thing keeping him going, and then he pulls out the "I have nothing worth protecting" and it's just all like godddd this kid's shitty coping mechanism of being an edgelord is causing him to unintentionally be such a dick sometimes and that is so fucking delightful to me. Abby has spent god knows how long watching her twin die and treat her like a past tense and like a concept and most of the cast don't even refer to her by name and it's unclear if she can even talk to them and that's all on top of literally being a ghost who is bound to death seemingly irreversibly and all of that while shes like 12. No wonder she kills moles and rabbits for doing nothing lol

[doublyamusing]

Quick thought: Can Anya only read inner monologues? Cause if so she's gonna have a real hard time with the non monologue having population