Autism Be Damned That Boy Can Girl

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

oh this is also an old one

ohhh so now you're doing a fucked up team attack, huh? alright, which is it, huh? another power of friendship type, or is it the awesome might of your military empire?

your salad is looking a little balanced there dude - your thoughtful selection of ingredients ensures no one flavour overpowers. fortunately i have some balsamic syrup right here,

As Maria’s fangs descend towards her throat, everything seems to slow.

She had known about what was meant to occur before you died. Things were meant to slow like this, were they not? Her life was meant to flash before her eyes, and then she would go wherever there was after death.

The fangs sink into her, and her throat is fully pulled from her neck.

Her head goes limp, turning sideways onto the table.

In the corner of her vision, she sees a silhouette.

It looks rather like herself, if her form were that of a blank and formless hole in the fabric of existence. It walks forwards on nonexistent legs, inducing movement in the folds of a nonexistent dress. It looks at her with eyes that do not exist. It opens an impossible mouth.

‘AGAIN.’

She lies on the table.

As Maria’s fangs descend towards her throat, everything seems to slow.

She had done this before, she knows.

The fangs sink into her.

‘AGAIN.’

She lies on the table.

As Maria’s fangs descend towards her throat, everything seems to slow.

She had done this before, she knows.

The fangs sink into her.

‘AGAIN.’

She lies on the table.

As Maria’s fangs descend towards her throat, everything seems to stop.

Maria is frozen, jaws open and unresponsive.

Her employer too is frozen.

The ‘furniture’ is unmoving.

‘NOW.’

Everything seems to speed up.

The furniture rots and decays. The table upon which she lies breaks and gives way. Dust collects on every part of the room. Maria and her employer go hollow and desiccated, gaunt skin stretching over bone, before they disintegrate and join the debris on the floor.

Everything seems to return to normal.

She somehow intuits that she has been in that room for several months.

She picks herself off of the floor and returns upstairs. The house is in such a state, but whatever this is will surely help her to maintain it.

And when that is done she can reach out, and try to find out more about this world she was utterly oblivious to.

She sees the silhouette again.

She nods her head at it, and before it winks out of her vision and returns to within her, she swears she sees it curtsy in response.

Gotta love VtM cause where else can I come up with these absurdly complicated possible plans. Literally going 'ok if I give this guy vicissitude then create a ghoul that looks like the guy then have the guy embrace the ghoul and then kill the ghoul and leave the identical body such that the Camarilla finds it then have the guy change appearance with vicissitude then pretend to be a newly embraced Tzimisce with my character as sire we can use this to escape and backstab evil sire with minimal consequences' and yet knowing full well the guy's player probably has a far better and more complex plan.

honestly being around people who are not uncomfortable with you having feelings and desires makes the people who were uncomfortable so much worse in retrospect

Don't worry everybody I promise to be normal tonight.

One drink in: Who would like to swear fealty to my cause

They had lived their life rather interestingly. Other people took the Laws of this world for granted. Those people saw no interest in making a change, they simply existed, making no impact on the world around them. They hated that.

They looked at the beliefs of the people, and they saw so many holes and flaws and problems.

They did not endeavour to fix these things. They took advantage of them, and made a good living. They turned lead into gold, water into wine, death into life.

It was the last, they reflect, that caused this to occur.

Their body shifts and twist beneath them. They broke the Laws, and now they face the consequences. They remember how this is meant to go. They will die, or they will be found innocent and emptied out, left to wander the world as a hollow shell of themselves.

A single word rings out in their mind.

‘No.’

Things are wrong. Things are broken and denied and unfulfilled. They continue to twist and shift. It hurts now, the fire of agony racing through their mind. This is unnatural, and it should not be.

Yet, in defiance of the Laws, it is.

They are torn apart and put back together. Claws and chitin and shell and bone and meat are grown and crushed, their flesh buckling and shaping in the same way as clay is worked by a potter.

They lose their mind halfway through this. All that is left is bestial aggression and animal instincts and emotion. They are so full of sadness and anger and regret and they do not know why.

They know only one thing - they have been found guilty.

Voices permeate the trees around them. They think as best they can.

These people are not guilty and yet they are.

This is unfair. They grow angrier and angrier.

They decide.

Claws extended, flesh warping, eyes wide, and mouth agape, they lurch towards the voices.

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.