[strikes A Cute Pose And Winks] In Terms Of Loathing And Malice I Can't Be Beat!!!

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.

the achilles tendon is the most iconic one to sever

the Ice War on Europa...

"all these people have adhd all of a sudden" honey the french have been drinking espresso after dinner since they first encountered stimulants, we've been here the whole time.

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

would you?

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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

Admin face reveal

in wigan it's as good as gravy