Vampire Curled Up At Your Front Door Whimpering Like A Kicked Stray Puppy Begging To Come Inside Where

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

absolutely just scrambled to open photoshop as soon as i saw this

‘May I have your name?’ I enquire.

‘                 '

It rings hollow. It disgusts me. It is a lie, and there is nothing we detest more than lies.

But it proves that he is a fool. So I demand more.

‘May I have your assistance?’

‘Of course. Anything you want me to do.’

So his fate is sealed.

I ask him back to mine. To tidy up and arrange the place. To help in my work. Of course, he is inept at first. He was not raised to place flowers in vases, or use a broom, or organise a library.

So I make him adept. For each of his failures - each mote of dust out of place, every fallen petal in the garden, all the slight imperfections - I change him. He is the first thing to go. The mind follows shortly after, with the body trailing behind.

She is now hollower than ever, yet no longer hollow at all. She is adept, her porcelain fingers better at the housework than ever, her new shiny joints no longer complaining from long hours working in the garden, her unblinking eyes finding every little detail to correct and make proper.

Her new voice, light and musical, no longer elicits such disgust in me, for it cannot tell the same lies that the old voice, so coarse and grating, could.

After a certain amount of time, which I do not care to describe for time means little to us, she tells me this:

‘I’m happy, miss.’

if i was a fictional character woukd you guys write fucked up angst fanfic about me yes or no

very funny that the symptoms of blood loss include making you more uncoordinated and cognitively impaired. look at me i'm so cute and helpless and fucking dying.

He left his village a long time ago.

He did it for simple reasons. He wished to serve his Lords. He wished to keep his village safe from all manner of threats that lurk in this world. He wished for a full stomach and a fuller purse.

They accepted him into their service, and decided to have him as a Man-At-Arms.

He thanked them for their understanding and care, when they have no such things.

They took his legs, and replaced them with segmented metal things, which would allow him to run and jump further and faster. They took his eyes, which insisted on blinking and flinching, and made it so that he would miss no shots through fault of his own. They took his arms, and gave him new ones, covered in blades and places to mount weapons and ammunition.

They sent him out among countless others.

…

It is much, much later.

He marches alongside his comrades. He marches alongside towering Implements, which fill him with a sense of dread and unease, despite the fact that they are on the same side. He marches towards his enemy.

Corrosion awaits.

The ground is stained a dirty orange. Leaves drop from the trees and hit the ground in a cacophony of falling rust. He sees things that were once people, now twisted into metal shapes. It smells of rot.

Alongside his comrades, he readies his weapons.

They burn it all down.

…

It is a bit later.

The area has been cleaned and secured. They continue marching.

The place into which they march is Corrosion no longer. This is the domain of Decay.

Half-dead and never-living things surround them and charge forwards.

Gunfire rakes through the air. Gouts of flame burst forth from some of the Implements. Others open fire with immense cannon. Some sweep through the enemy with oversized blades and crushing instruments. He joins his comrades. He fires upon the enemy.

The march continues.

Comrade and foe alike fall.

Implements stagger and are dragged down by the sheer weight of the enemy.

His ammunition runs dry. His comrades suffer the same fate.

The march continues.

Now they fight with blades alone. The march has slowed. Death is omnipresent, watching over both sides and exacting a heavy toll.

His comrades drop, one by one.

The march continues.

He marches alone.

The march continues.

He marches right out of the other end of the Decay.

…

‘... and for your services to The Court, you are to be rewarded with a place among our number, safe from the Corrosion and Decay that spoiled so many of your fine compatriots.’

He is knighted.

They take his lungs. They take his spine. They take his brain. They take his mind.

He thinks of his village, and how long it has been.

He does not understand.

But, he supposes, he does not have to. He is one of The Court now, and the actions of mere humans are far below him. He does not care any more.

His new brain and heart tick away steadily, and he rises.

U⁠^⁠ｪ⁠^⁠U

they got rid of the classical elements & replaced it with something called the 'four harmonious insects' so now instead of fire, water, etc we have moth, spider, leech and worm.

Everyone comes to me wanting to be some esoteric courtier position. We don't need anymore viziers or seneschals. you're a peasant levy. The princess allows you to use your body and a pike to stop the enemy mounted charge. You can get horny about it if you like.