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

If you are a vampire NEVER feed from someone named Richard. 400 fucking years and everyone still calls me Dick Sucker

LISTEN UP PEOPLE

They’ve been walking around for a while now. Not really sure where they’re going, not really sure why. Their legs start to ache, and they can walk no longer.

They come to the front of an old building, well-maintained yet clearly showing its age. They ignore the gardens, and do not dare to cross the fence. The cold and rain bite into their face.

They need to stop. They need to rest. They go towards the doorway, and sit on one of the steps there, protected from the elements.

They sit there for a while. It is so late at night, and they are so tired.

They sit and stare into the night.

They do this for a while.

The door behind them opens, and they wake from their reverie. They quickly lift themselves off of the step, and turn to face whoever is in the doorway.

How can they describe the sight that awaits them?

A beautiful looking young lady stands there, wearing an elaborate dress they swear they’ve seen in a museum somewhere. Her skin is pale, looking almost dead. Her hands are clasped together in front of her, and they do not move. Her eyes appear as though they do not need to blink, and she stares at them and through them. She does not appear to be breathing.

The most horrible detail of her appearance, though, is her smile.

It appears kind, caring, almost loving. But it is clear as day that it is only an appearance. There is no feeling behind it. It is a smile born of manners and propriety and nothing else. They imagine it is the kind of smile serial killers give their victims before they plunge a knife into their chest.

This is not to mention what lies beyond the threshold of the building. The hall is warmly lit, yet is cold and uninviting nevertheless. The aroma of flowers fills the air, and it reminds them of the bouquets people leave at funerals or on graves. They can see some of the flowers themselves. They are so beautiful, yet so horrid at the same time.

She has some of them in her hair.

They wonder if she is a ghost of some kind. If she is one of the Fair Folk, here to torment and torture them. If she is human at all, or ever was.

She opens her mouth, and the sound that emanates is so sickly sweet as to be smothering.

‘Are you quite alright?’

The words themselves should be comforting. They should fill them with warmth and reassurance.

But the tone…

There is nothing behind it. It is the tone one hears from a clock chiming the hour, or a music box repeating a song. Words that should calm and help instead fix them to the steps.

They stare at her in terror, even though they cannot put a finger on what is amiss.

Maybe it’s that everything is amiss.

She steps forwards, and it is this that breaks them. Her movements are so measured, so perfect. She does not shake or twitch. It is as though something has placed a hand on her and moved her.

The smell of her flowers fills their nose as they inhale. Maybe it is their imagination, but there is an undertone of flesh and meat and blood.

Her shoe hits the step.

They turn and run into the night. At least whatever monsters await them in the shadows do not pretend to be something else. They do not wear a dress that is centuries out of fashion. They do not act with such inhuman grace. They do not gut and flay kindness and dress their words up in its skin.

Those monsters would tear them apart, and at this moment they would find it a mercy compared to whatever fate she would promise them.

As they sprint away as fast as their legs can carry them, they wonder if she is following them. They wonder if she will catch up with them. They wonder if she will ask them what exactly caused them to leave so suddenly, utterly oblivious to her own wrongness.

The thought terrifies them.

i should figure out how to homebrew white monster actually

Her nails were the first thing that was taken away.

The woman in front of her stands, holding her head between her hands, whispering soothing words. Promising it won’t hurt very much at all.

Her knife reaches out again

Her skin falls away from her, revealing layers of fat which follow in turn. Her muscles part, and are quickly and precisely removed. Organs are cut out, excised one by one so as to avoid making a mess or disturbing the ongoing work. Veins and arteries are removed with impossible cleanliness.

She doesn’t want to stain anything, after all.

Bones and eyes remain, so are taken as well.

She can’t avoid making a bit of a mess with this bit.

Splinters of bone fall to the floor. Her skull cracks, splits, shatters. She is removed, then her brain is tossed aside.

Then, from a place where she sees and feels yet cannot act, she watches as her miss truly begins her work.

Steel is melted, poured into molds, beaten out on an anvil, and formed into a beautiful new skeleton for her. Her miss works with ceramics to make her cold new skin. She works with bronze and brass and precious metals to build her lovely joints.

She spends weeks crafting new eyes for her doll.

When she wakes up, after months of watching the affection of her miss pour into her new body, she moves quickly, sure of her purpose.

She embraces her miss.

KIsses her with porcelain lips.

And offers a response months in the making:

‘Thank you.’

honestly being around people who are not uncomfortable with you having feelings and desires makes the people who were uncomfortable so much worse in retrospect

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.

U⁠^⁠ｪ⁠^⁠U