Top 10 Reactions To Condescendingly Being Called "princess" That We Really Don't Need To Examine

after despair comes joy

Now that it's getting warmer outside again, I just want something like this 🌻☀️

vampire sub with a "CAUTION I BITE" dog collar

She stands still, hearing a repetitive ticking noise emanating from inside of her chest.

She can feel the gears inside of her as they rotate and mesh and interlink, sending the energy stored in the spring wound up within her.

She moves her arm upwards to stare at the back of her hand. As she does, wires move to curl her fingers, mechanisms rotate to allow her arm to bend at the elbow, and metal slides over metal on her joints.

She’s been so delicately made, so precisely crafted.

Always in equilibrium, as little wasted energy as possible.

Her miss made her to be perfect.

It always makes the next bit more fun.

A sharp blow knocks her off balance, sending her side into the edge of a table.

It cracks, but holds.

Her legs are swept out from under her. She falls.

Hits the hard floor.

Cracks, but holds.

The boot that follows finally breaks her, causing the ceramic of her chest and abdomen to fracture and burst out across the room.

Her miss reaches inside of her, not caring for the shards that pierce her skin and draw out her blood.

Her miss seizes a gear and holds it for a second. If she had a heart, it would skip a beat.

Her miss takes another gear. Holds it.

Tears it out.

She can’t feel or move her legs any more. Within her, cogs spin impotently, teeth catching on empty space.

Her miss gently places her hand around her spring.

Twists it.

Not up, but down.

Her eyes flutter closed. Her limbs don’t go limp, instead they lock in their current positions. Her gears and mechanisms slow, very soon to go still.

As she is wound down, she finds it harder and harder to think, to reason, to act.

To act before her consciousness fades out of existence requires immense willpower and focus, along with single-minded determination.

As her mind fades to black, her mouth moves.

It hangs open in a lopsided smile.

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

guy who thinks that being forced to live in a human body is a form of divine torture surprised to learn that she actually quite enjoys living in a girl’s body.

aesthetic of the day i think

‘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 loved The Factory. It certainly helped that she knew little else. Every day, she rose and set about her work. She assembled weapons and machines and more. She did her part, taking care of the children being raised in their little outpost. She ate and drank and worked and did very nearly nothing else.

But in this case, ‘nothing else’ is far from inconsequential.

She told the children about the stories that had been passed down from her parents. She dreamt about those stories. These stories had endured from a time where, quite unthinkably to her, The Factory had not yet expanded to assimilate their home. They talked about dragons and fools and vagabonds and knights and - her favorite - princesses. They held messages of defiance, of truth, of nobility.

She took these stories, and held them close to get through the day.

As time went on, she grew tired. These stories seemed to become more and more distant. She made things for people to use to kill each other in faraway lands. There was no meaning to her existence, no message, nothing coming to save her.

She became dull.

{And there is nothing I detest more than dullness.}

But she was rewarded. It seems as though fate {Nobility.} had taken a shine to her.

An accident happened.

Something went horribly wrong. Maybe some munitions assembly went wrong. Maybe a load-bearing beam had been built cheaply or incorrectly. The method doesn’t matter, only the results.

For the first time in her life, she steps outside.

The stories come rushing back to her. She breathes fresh air and stares at a clear sky.

She sees trees, and plants, and animals. She is entranced, and she steps into the forest.

In the stories, how often does an errant heroine wander through the woods?

Well, not too often. Usually they are relegated to the role of witless maidens to be saved.

This story is different, for it has truth to it.

She wanders, and time loses all meaning.

Roots and leaves and branches all blur into one. She could have been in there for seconds or centuries.

She steps out of the forest.

In front of her is a castle, looking as though it had been carefully copied from the ones in her dreams. Spires and towers and moats and crenellations and yet more features fill her vision.

She steps into the castle. {And I am waiting for her.}

She greets the person within in the manner she remembers from the old tales.

{I look within her, and I see her as she ought to be. She is full of lovely tales, and I am in need of some entertainment. It seems our goals align, though she is unaware of what she actually wants. I suppose I must give it to her.}

The Princess on her throne smiles at her, and opens her mouth.

She offers her a place in her domain, where she will never have to worry about dullness and boredom. Where she would never need to abandon her stories.

She accepts, of course.

{So I took her and made her suited to her purpose. It has led to such fun results.}

And she lived happily ever after.

The End.