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

She never wanted anything before.

She lived her life for other people, always doing what they wanted her to. They told her to do things, maybe to get a job done, or go somewhere, or to say something - and she would.

She was good at taking care of herself.

She met all of her medical needs. She ate to remain living, never taking any enjoyment in the act. She was alive, but even she could see that there was a difference between being alive and actually having a life.

She kept it up for a while.

Some people - those with common sense and yet no understanding - would disparage her for this:

‘How terrible must it be to live without living? How could she do this to herself? Did she not see what it was doing to her?’

But other people exist, and some of those people have care, and empathy, and understanding, and a capacity for love.

Her miss is one of those people. She took one look at her, and knew exactly what she had to do.

She did not demand that she fix herself, that she take the fractured parts of the person she could have been and form a facsimile of enjoyment and emotion. She did not ask her to magic away her flaws and change her personality and act as if nothing was ever wrong with her.

Instead, she took all of her broken mechanisms and functions and twisted them towards her own self-serving altruism.

She made her wear the clothes she loved but was too scared and indecisive to wear.

She made her go to the places she wanted to experience but wouldn’t dare go otherwise.

She made her accept her own desires and made her realise other people could love her, things she knew before but would never act on for fear of pushing people away.

At the end, she lay on her miss’ bed, looking all pretty in her new dress, tired from night after night of new things, and with a smile on her face.

And her miss made her do one more thing. One last step. She made her step out of this body of meat and bone which she had always hated but had never been able to leave, and step into a better one.

One made of ceramic and metal. One with lovely joints and perfect mechanisms. One which doesn’t need so much taking care of.

One which she can, finally, admit that she wants and loves.

scruffy puppygirl who you liked the vibe of so you invited her to hang with you then at the end of the day she didn’t have anywhere to go so she just kinda followed you home

she never picked out a name she liked and she hates her old name but her collar just reads “STRAY” so you can call her that if you want. she’s never had an owner before so she doesn’t really know how this works

she’s kinda hungry. no it’s fine, she’s not picky, she’ll eat whatever you want to have. yeah, she does like pizza, actually, thank you!

she feels bad for taking up space in your house, she knows it’s kinda small and you don’t have a spare bedroom but the couch is ok and- your bed?? really? are you sure? she doesn’t want to be a bother but if you insist

your bed is so comfortable, and your hands- no no keep petting her! if you don’t mind of course. it’s kinda nice… would it be ok if she kissed you? maybe just a lil cheek kiss? you’ve been so nice to her…

Xavier Olivette moodboard

Objective (i.e. highly subjective) best part of going to the club is getting to roll whatever absurd random encounter table fate cooked up for it.

'Butch who dances with you thrice and leaves with a kiss upon the hand' encounter happens within a solid three minutes of the 'sudden pull up contest' and 'impressively coherent singalong' and I would have it no other way.

he's such a little freak i love him

as a child being told "the moon controls the tides" with no additional explanation was like. oh okay. you want me to believe in magic? you're talking about magic right now? okay. fine

oh this is also an old one