Digging Nails Into Some Poor Puppy's Back, Thumb In Its Mouth, Holding It To My Gaze As I Shush It And

Every instance of older Challia breaking character... he's so cute when it happens...

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.

vampire curled up at your front door whimpering like a kicked stray puppy begging to come inside where it’s warm and cozy because it’s so so cold

been building a collection of posts from like minded individuals

writhing in pain today but at least it’s cute maybe

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

LISTEN UP PEOPLE

fuck it sure

Ohyou WANT TO GOTo HEAVENN?.? BECAUSE theyplay HARPPS? JUST COMEdown TO HELLL WHERE WE playfUCKING CLARINETS outoftUNE