She So Resents When They Have To Get Help In. She So Resents Having To Stay Up So Early. She So Resents

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.

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

me every time challia shows up in gquuuuuux

people are always like "Oh a vampire wouldn't get horny while drinking someone's blood, that's like getting horny while eating a sandwich" and like man have you never had a really good fucking sandwich?

[trying to soften the blow] something VERY biblical has happened to your dog

do you guys think vampires use stakes for kink like people use knives

Upon a lonely road was a messenger from The Court, sent to parlay with a number of Decay-aligned knightly orders. Their actions would be of great consequence in the days to follow. Hundreds or even thousands of lives were banking on their ability to reach the camp within the night. However, their horse had…

{This is rather dull, is it not? Whether or not they make it, there will be a great deal of slaughter. This doesn’t matter a bit. Without consequences and results, how are things meant to be fun?}

[I agree with your sentiment, but for different reasons. They merely serve others. They should try to do something for themselves. I of all people know that fate is far from certain, so why would they not choose to forge their own?]

{I believe this is our first time talking. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m The Princess.}

[...]

{And your name is?}

[I am called The Sacrifice. It fits well enough.]

{...}

[We are opposing forces, are we not? I have taken humanity and made it all I am. I have no body or mind and yet I remain human.]

{And I have rejected humanity. However, we are rather similar. We both chose to reject the Laws of this place, and decided to make ones of our own.}

[We do indeed share that, Miss Princess.]

{So, why are we both here, and what are we to discuss?}

[I am not quite sure. When I stood in front of the Mainspring and burnt away, I chose to exist. I did not, though, choose where and when I exist.]

{Excuse me if it is rude to ask, but are you dead?}

[I exist. I chose to. Therefore I do.]

{I expected such a cryptic answer.}

[Oh, but it is the truth. So, why are you here?]

{I thought these events would be entertaining, and it turns out they have been, though not for the reasons I expected.}

[I hate to interrupt, but I can feel myself drifting away. Far too many things call to me, and I cannot hope to answer them all. I must depart.]

{Well, it’s been lovely to meet you. I’ll head off too. I no longer care for that messenger or their horse or their meeting. As far as I am concerned, that story ends here.}

this is actually a clever nod to how char aznable invented yaoi in the real life 1970s

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.