She Presses A Cup Full Of Tea Into The Hands Of The Woman - No, The Girl, She’s Far Younger Than She

Ah, yes, I see you’ve taken notice of the fine knight I keep dangling in a big gilded cage above my evil throne. Quite the pretty little ornament the would be savior makes, wouldn’t you agree~?

What? No, it IS a big cage. That’s- it’s the standard size for a knight’s cage I’m pretty sure. NO I’m not going to invest in 500 square feet of dungeon, it’s ONE knight! I’m pretty sure knights live in hovels in the wild anyways which is basically the same- Look, the cage is quite literally gilded. He loves the cage! He loves obediently preening in the cage! Yeah well, when you capture your own knight you can keep it in whatever size castle you want to, but this one’s mine. Especially since you’re so obviously jealous of me and my cute and awesome knight anyway.

She has been here for some time now. Maybe two and a half years? She hasn’t paid too much attention to it.

In her role as head maid, she is proud to say that she has established a strong rapport with those working under her. She is polite and proper, but they also know her to be kind and fair. She will help out where she can, they know.

She has grown rather fond of some of them.

One of them in particular has grown rather fond of her.

This one steals longing glances at her when she thinks she isn’t looking. This one tries to work with her wherever she can. This one’s hand brushes against her dress for a second too long when they pass each other in a corridor.

But Ophelia keeps things professional.

At least, until she cannot any longer.

One day, she sees her talking to one of her colleagues. He is giving her the same glances and looks and eyes that Ophelia normally receives from her. He is talking, and empathising and reassuring and making offers of assistance.

He moves closer, hand stretching out slightly.

Something within Ophelia snaps.

A sudden rush of possessiveness flows through her. She must have her. She must make her hers. She simply must.

She swiftly glides between the two of them, and snaps at him to get on with his work.

She turns slowly, and enquires as to her wellbeing. She praises her for her excellent work. She compliments her.

All of it is sincere. She has no need to lie here.

She notes the slight blush in her face. The way her pupils dilate slightly. The way the look into her eyes shifts from one of timidity and hesitation into a predatory one that rather reminds Ophelia of herself.

Ophelia asks her if she would like to take a break, and takes her upstairs, and invites her into her room.

The second the door swings closed behind them, Ophelia is near tackled off of her feet and carried to the bed.

She is placed on her lap, and they stare greedily at each other, drinking each other in.

Her hand deftly moves to Ophelia’s face, caressing her cheek before descending to her chest.

They kiss.

Ophelia, through practice and effort, is just about able to warm her lips when they touch.

Her other hand slides beneath Ophelia’s skirt.

It moves up her thigh.

Her hand pulls back suddenly. She pushes herself away from Ophelia, and Ophelia falls from on her lap. She stands, and stares at Ophelia, sprawled and discarded across the bed. She raises her hand to her face, and it is covered in blood. There is far more than there would be under any other circumstances. It is not blood, she realises. It is vitae.

She had let herself forget these things. She let herself forget that Ophelia was nothing like her. She is a human woman and Ophelia is nothing more than a corpse, brought to a semblance of life by whatever foul substance flows through her veins. Whatever Ophelia pretends to be, they are nothing alike.

Look at her, staring up from the bed, eyes wide and mouth agape. She’s not even crying. Is that even possible? Maybe she isn’t even human enough for that.

She runs from the room.

Ophelia tries and fails to pick herself up from on the bed.

She lies there for a while.

She rolls over, and sees vitae leaking out from around her eyes. It seems she is cursed to never be able to truly hide her emotions.

She sits up, and stands in her room for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts and composing herself.

She walks downstairs to find the other servant from earlier.

She finds him, and in her sadness and rage and inhumanity she eviscerates him and disembowels him and twists him into all kinds of painful and beautiful shapes and drains him of his blood and takes him apart and puts him back together again.

When all of this is done, she deigns to kill him.

She leaves him as flowers in the entryway.

She returns to her room, and feeling just a bit less human than she did when the day started, she lets the daysleep take her.

would you?

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 🙄

She was a god once.

People obeyed the god she was. People listened to the god she was. People respected the god she was.

She was loved, and because the god was gentle, because it gave away comforting dreams with fairytale endings and divine messages and told its followers to make their dreams reality, she is here now.

The thing that stands before her has no respect for the god she was.

It approaches her.

Leans close to her.

Puts its mouth to her ear, lips nearly touching her.

Whispers meaningless words to her.

It fills her with fears, not her own. It tells her to reject the authority of the world. It tells her that she must never explain her actions. It tells her the secrets and agonising truths she once denied.

It pulls away.

Her mouth opens, ready to rebuke it.

The thing congeals, takes form, and rushes forwards.

She feels it cover her skin, encasing her body and limbs in a solid layer of shadows. She tries to move, and it restrains her, tightening in response to her actions.

She feels it start to expand, crawling upwards towards her face. It reaches her chin. Her cheeks. Her nose. Her eyes. It closes above her.

She cannot see.

After a brief reprieve, the shadows start to push at her lips.

They are forced apart.

It does not rush down her throat and devour her from within. That would be a mercy.

Instead, it slowly reaches inside her. It expands once more. Moving tantalisingly slowly, it covers her lips. Her teeth. Her tongue.

Only then does it start to inch down her throat. As it does, she remembers.

Not the god she was before, but the being she was before even that, and the being before that, and so on.

She knows that she will return, as she has before. She knows that it will return, as it has before.

The shadow does not stop her last action.

She smiles.

She looks forward to next time.

And then she is gone.

People who've never seen Zeta Gundam but know about the whole "Char puts on sunglasses and calls himself Four Vaginas" thing don't actually understand what's funny about that. It's not the "oh this paper-thin disguise is working" that's funny; most of the returning characters from '79 never saw Char and don't know what he looks like (and the ones that do aren't fooled for a second) and he takes the sunglasses off all the time anyway. No, what's funny is that he cannot shut the fuck up about how cool and sexy Char is, wouldn't it be funny if you were in the presence of someone that cool and sexy, and half of the other characters are like "huh yeah I'd sure love to meet Char one day wonder if I ever will" and the other half are dying inside.

googling shit like "why do i feel bad after hanging out with my friends" and all of the answers are either "you need better friends" (i don't; my friends are wonderful) or "your social battery is drained, you need to rest and regain your energy levels" (i don't; i've got tons of energy, it's just manifesting as over-the-top neurotic mania). why is this even happening. it's like some stupid toll i have to pay as a punishment for enjoying myself too much

*tied to a chair,.spitting up blood* heh..... youre gonna need to brush my teeth a little harder than THAT to get information out of me

Actually every character ever is aromantic and/or asexual. Every single one of them.

Married? Platonic and/or tax benefits. Fucking? Friends with benefits.

Aros can still date and aces can still have sex, right? Great! Every allo character is now ace and/or aro! I am going to be so fucking annoying with this.