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

There is some Seven Seas shit going on in my For You.

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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.

that guy who was really focused on being considerate at all times is now a puppygirl who will bark for anyone if they ask her to.

What if we were both each other's pet and we looked after each other and sometimes we were both animals at once and we snuggled and had matching collars

‘May I have your name?’ I enquire.

‘                 '

It rings hollow. It disgusts me. It is a lie, and there is nothing we detest more than lies.

But it proves that he is a fool. So I demand more.

‘May I have your assistance?’

‘Of course. Anything you want me to do.’

So his fate is sealed.

I ask him back to mine. To tidy up and arrange the place. To help in my work. Of course, he is inept at first. He was not raised to place flowers in vases, or use a broom, or organise a library.

So I make him adept. For each of his failures - each mote of dust out of place, every fallen petal in the garden, all the slight imperfections - I change him. He is the first thing to go. The mind follows shortly after, with the body trailing behind.

She is now hollower than ever, yet no longer hollow at all. She is adept, her porcelain fingers better at the housework than ever, her new shiny joints no longer complaining from long hours working in the garden, her unblinking eyes finding every little detail to correct and make proper.

Her new voice, light and musical, no longer elicits such disgust in me, for it cannot tell the same lies that the old voice, so coarse and grating, could.

After a certain amount of time, which I do not care to describe for time means little to us, she tells me this:

‘I’m happy, miss.’

in her DMs giving away my weaknesses with reckless abandon

WE GOT OBLIVION REMASTER BEFORE YANDERE SIMULATOR 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

puppygirl who plays a lot of rhythm games so u have to pet her on beat and call her a perfect girl or else she starts getting upset