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

sorry for calling you "the rasputin of the polycule"

Part of the process of my better coming to terms with being aromantic involved a fair amount of not wanting to 'miss out' on things like dating and Valentine's Day and all that, but like:

1- Thinking about it those things don't matter as much as I thought they did.

2- There are options which I have considered.

Ultimately those things would likely have ended up with me just playing a role I didn't want to. If I'm going to play a role, it should be one I enjoy, right?

And none of those things are exclusive to romance. Like I can take my friends for meals and send them letters and all that, right?

So much of it is down to other people's expectations, so why not play on them for personal amusement?

Go for that lovely Valentine's Day meal all dressed up but with no expectations, knowing just how people will react to 'such a lovely couple'.

(also maybe getting couples discounts I will always game scenarios for profit sorry)

Buy flowers or gifts for one another and hand them over in public, and see how people cluelessly smile and think they know exactly what is going on.

Act ever so slightly close and affectionate, and watch for the 'knowing' glances and looks, so full of vital misunderstanding.

Play the role, not out of obligation or need, but for entertainment and because it might be fun, and laugh about it later. Let other people be oh so wrong, and have oh such a good time as you do so.

She so resents when they have to get help in. She so resents having to stay up so early. She so resents having to deal with someone who must be coddled and kept at arm’s length so they don’t run screaming to the police or worse.

All things considered, Ophelia Cooper is in a foul mood.

But this was her idea, after all. She is a caretaker, and if this will help to keep her boss and the house safe, she’ll suffer with a smile on her face, no matter how forced.

Her guest has arrived outside. There’s a van full of tools and mess and clutter sitting on the doorstep of a place she’s laboured to keep clean for years.

They knock at the door - using the ornate door knocker and not crudely knocking on the door itself. The intercom activates, and before she can get a bad-tempered word out, they speak - they ask if they can come in. Not only this, but they ask ‘please’, and when Ophelia gives them their instructions, she says a short ‘thank you’. And they close the door behind themselves, keeping the dreaded sun out.

Her bad mood having suddenly evaporated, she descends to meet her guest.

Her guest stands in the hallway, not unsettled in the slightest by the flowers or books or furniture or ornaments that adorn the interior. She is oh so beautiful and oh so polite, and Ophelia feels something stir within her. It is not the artless whispers of romance that she gave up long ago, or the brutal covetousness she often feels - this is something else, something strange and rare and new and odd. She is utterly entranced by this woman, and hangs on her every word.

‘Where’d you need the hob installing?’

Back to work then. An electric hob is so much safer than a gas one, reducing the risk of random fires and avoids provoking The Beast since no flame is present. It took her a while to persuade her boss that this was a useful measure.

The two head into the kitchen, and names are exchanged, as is polite and proper.

‘Ophelia Cooper, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘Elizabeth Smith, lovely to make your acquaintance’

There is something she felt once, back when her sire tore out her throat and turned her. It was an odd feeling, a certain emptiness in the stomach, and an uncertainty about whether or not to run screaming, no matter how rude it would be.

As she watches Elizabeth set about her work, proceeding tidily and methodically and leaving no mess and making polite conversation and always saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and using proper manner and etiquette, she feels it again.

When the work is finished, she knows what she should do. She should Dominate her, clouding her memory of these events and making her forget this house and these people forever, or drag her to her boss for him to do the same.

She is at war with her own mind here. She wishes to see them again. She wishes to know her better. She was so polite and well-mannered, in a way that reminded her of Maria, wherever she is now.

She comes to a conclusion that appeases her need to do her job, her need to be polite, and her need to preserve this lovely thing in front of her.

After leading Elizabeth into the hall and allowing her to leave, she goes to meet her boss.

Sure, he’ll be annoyed if she wakes him at this time of day, but he’ll trust her ideas, and maybe the sleepiness will make him acquiesce sooner.

They really should replace that gas oven, it presents such a risk. Oh, and the boiler, that’s also gas, and it’s not as though Kindred need the warmth. Oh, also work on the roof should be done to stop the sun getting in. And security systems could keep him safer.

And before he knows it, Elizabeth Smith may be as much a part of his household and maintenance team as Ophelia is.

And then Ophelia never has to stop looking at her. Never has to stop basking in her politeness and manners.

She could maybe introduce her to her sire’s boss, that ‘Dragon’. After all, how many havens could be refitted to reduce the risk of fire and sun and humans.

And if the Dragon finds her polite enough and good enough at her job, she could have Elizabeth Smith for eternity.

ohhh so now you're doing a fucked up team attack, huh? alright, which is it, huh? another power of friendship type, or is it the awesome might of your military empire?

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

Modern vampire who has spent the last 70-ish years of their immortality primarily being slutty in nightclubs and non-lethal snacking on hookups shocked and uncomfortable that most vampires older than the lightbulb are really into torture and cruelty and eating babies alive. Super excited to finally meet his own kind and then oh no. oh fuck. time out wtf are they doing. this is profoundly unsexy they bit that guy’s arm off and are letting him crawl around screaming and crying. there’s not even any kissing or grinding or club music. is this normal?? i am Going to throw up i’ve gotta get these poor ppl out of here. askjeeves how to smuggle 30 naked prisoners (assorted genders) out of vampire mansion time sensitive.

She sits on the chair, legs crossed, waiting in anticipation.

Her friend takes an object, shows it to her to reassure her.

Explains what it is, how it works, what it does. Something to do with electromagnets, currents in the brain, and depth of stimulation.

Explains how it can have an impact on activity in specific parts of the brain.

She doesn’t understand half of it, but she gets the gist, and it sounds fun.

A couple of switches are flicked. Maybe a button is pressed, or a large dial is turned.

Her friend moves the object back, holding it to the side of her head.

Nothing happens.

She opens her mouth to enquire, and gibberish falls out. She can’t even form a word, let alone a sentence.

Her friend smiles.

She blushes.

She does not collapse, or raise her hands to cover her face. She wouldn’t be a good test subject if she did that.

Her friend moves the object to the back of her head, and flashes of light appear in her vision.

Her friend moves the object to the top of her head, and she jolts a little bit, her senses feel off.

Her friend moves the object to the front of her head.

Her mind goes blank.

If she could plan, or reason, or imagine, she would hear the pleasure in the voice of her friend as she explains the role of the frontal lobe in complex thought.

As it is, she sits limply, eyes open and empty.

The object is removed, turned off.

Thoughts rush back into her mind.

Her friend takes her hand.

Moves it up to her lips.

Thanks her for being such a perfect thing to study.

Kisses the back of her hand.

Once more, her mind goes blank.

She smiles, stands, and together they sweep out of the room.

Objective (i.e. highly subjective) best part of going to the club is getting to roll whatever absurd random encounter table fate cooked up for it.

'Butch who dances with you thrice and leaves with a kiss upon the hand' encounter happens within a solid three minutes of the 'sudden pull up contest' and 'impressively coherent singalong' and I would have it no other way.

did you know you can actually just cock your head to the side and put your canine teeth on either side of her windpipe and not bite down but just hold gentle pressure while you're doing whatever you're doing to remind her that we are animals and with less force than it takes you to bite into a good apple you could tear out her pretty throat? you can do this any time and it's free and easy

When you transition people tell you “it’s like watching someone die”. Like yeah a fucking loser died. Just the absolute lamest dude you ever met. A real dogshit guy just bought it. So sorry your absolute failure of a man is gone and has been replaced by a hot chick, must be hard for you 🙄