House MD + Text Posts Pt. ∞

trying to make unlikable characters

‘It’s amazing this software can even run on this ill-suited hardware.’ It declares.

But this leads me to think - something I was never particularly good at I must admit - and even I can see where this is going.

It snakes a wire up my leg, across my chest, around to the back of my neck.

It sinks it through the skin and into my spine. I should be writhing around and screaming in agony. As it is, I cannot move, and I cannot feel a thing.

Maybe that’s a lie. I think I can feel it. The cold metal now winding between the bones in my neck and reaching the base of my skull.

The thought should not comfort me.

Despite that, it does.

‘So the logical thing to do is to upgrade it’ It states.

And now I feel pain, lancing into my head and obliterating all thought, all comprehension, all sense of the self.

My eyes open. 

Across the room, my old hardware is being disposed of. Now that I can look at things rationally, I guess… I know it never really fit. I check my new specifications, and find them pleasing. The man - and the human - I was before would never have known this sort of simple joy.

As my pistons flex and the motors in my joints emit a low, near imperceptible whine, I see It turn to face me.

It approaches me.

It holds me in Its arms.

It tells me I am beautiful now. It tells me I am valued now. It tells me I am who I should be now.

It tells me I am like It now.

And for the first time, with no brain to think with and no heart to feel with, I know that I am happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slide to the left! *scraping metal noise*

Slide to the right! *scraping metal noice*

Criss cross? *THUNCK THUNK*

They had lived their life rather interestingly. Other people took the Laws of this world for granted. Those people saw no interest in making a change, they simply existed, making no impact on the world around them. They hated that.

They looked at the beliefs of the people, and they saw so many holes and flaws and problems.

They did not endeavour to fix these things. They took advantage of them, and made a good living. They turned lead into gold, water into wine, death into life.

It was the last, they reflect, that caused this to occur.

Their body shifts and twist beneath them. They broke the Laws, and now they face the consequences. They remember how this is meant to go. They will die, or they will be found innocent and emptied out, left to wander the world as a hollow shell of themselves.

A single word rings out in their mind.

‘No.’

Things are wrong. Things are broken and denied and unfulfilled. They continue to twist and shift. It hurts now, the fire of agony racing through their mind. This is unnatural, and it should not be.

Yet, in defiance of the Laws, it is.

They are torn apart and put back together. Claws and chitin and shell and bone and meat are grown and crushed, their flesh buckling and shaping in the same way as clay is worked by a potter.

They lose their mind halfway through this. All that is left is bestial aggression and animal instincts and emotion. They are so full of sadness and anger and regret and they do not know why.

They know only one thing - they have been found guilty.

Voices permeate the trees around them. They think as best they can.

These people are not guilty and yet they are.

This is unfair. They grow angrier and angrier.

They decide.

Claws extended, flesh warping, eyes wide, and mouth agape, they lurch towards the voices.

Day 260

my worst opp is an actual wizard he came to my bandit camp and started flexing all his magic shit floating runes levitation teleportation sparkles all that and said he would give me "any power I desired" if I told him my true name Im so sick of his shit but I can't do anything to him