Why'd The Escapees Decorate The Walls Like A Left4Dead Level

you can’t jokingly post about kinky shit on tumblr because you say smth like “haha wouldn’t it be hot if you…tried to launch internet explorer…but it wouldn’t load :D”

and then you’ll get one thousand robot girls in the notes going “mmngngnnghhhngn”

top 10 reactions to condescendingly being called "princess" that we really don't need to examine

maid virtue names such as devotion, laundry, and able-to-carry-dishes-on-her-forearms

Injecting pure estrogen into my bloodstream so I forcefeminize my vampire friend

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

Her nails were the first thing that was taken away.

The woman in front of her stands, holding her head between her hands, whispering soothing words. Promising it won’t hurt very much at all.

Her knife reaches out again

Her skin falls away from her, revealing layers of fat which follow in turn. Her muscles part, and are quickly and precisely removed. Organs are cut out, excised one by one so as to avoid making a mess or disturbing the ongoing work. Veins and arteries are removed with impossible cleanliness.

She doesn’t want to stain anything, after all.

Bones and eyes remain, so are taken as well.

She can’t avoid making a bit of a mess with this bit.

Splinters of bone fall to the floor. Her skull cracks, splits, shatters. She is removed, then her brain is tossed aside.

Then, from a place where she sees and feels yet cannot act, she watches as her miss truly begins her work.

Steel is melted, poured into molds, beaten out on an anvil, and formed into a beautiful new skeleton for her. Her miss works with ceramics to make her cold new skin. She works with bronze and brass and precious metals to build her lovely joints.

She spends weeks crafting new eyes for her doll.

When she wakes up, after months of watching the affection of her miss pour into her new body, she moves quickly, sure of her purpose.

She embraces her miss.

KIsses her with porcelain lips.

And offers a response months in the making:

‘Thank you.’