Sickens Me To My Stomach. How Dare This Guy Get To Live My Dream.

the way ppl have designated cuddling as a purely romantic thing and is weird outside of that context has done widespread damage to our pack animal nature

[trying to soften the blow] something VERY biblical has happened to your dog

people are always like "Oh a vampire wouldn't get horny while drinking someone's blood, that's like getting horny while eating a sandwich" and like man have you never had a really good fucking sandwich?

princegirls are for having their tendons severed and being forced to crawl around on the ground

He literally said that in the book

Her boss sits at the table, staring across at another man. Well, she notes dryly in her head, not a man. Never a man, at least not again. He’s pale, same as her and her boss. 

To some, he would look almost like a corpse.

To a small, unlucky few, they would recognise him as one.

She busies herself with tasks, pouring drinks, keeping candles lit, and delegating to the other servants. She checks the oven, ensuring the temperature within is just right. Too low, and the meal would be cold and unpleasant. Too high, and it would be charred to death and boiled and ruined.

It wouldn’t do for her to ruin a meal. It would be so improper to serve anything less than perfection, so she’s become adept at cooking. She knows the tastes and preferences of her boss perhaps better than her own. She knows how to pick the right supplier for her meals. She knows how to prepare and present them with an absolute minimum of mess and panic.

In the kitchen, a timer rings, snapping her out of her routine.

The meal ought to be perfectly warm by now.

She takes them out of the oven, checks them over with a keen eye. All parts unnecessary for consumption have been skilfully removed by her hand, and it’s in the perfect state to be served up.

She moves the meal on top of a trolley, such that it can be more easily served. Even her new lifestyle hasn’t made her strong enough to carry the whole thing on a plate, and it’s not as if it can exactly walk anymore.

She rolls the trolley into the room, and slides the metal tray onto the table. She stands in the corner, behind her boss, and looks on politely.

They start on their meal.

As they lean forwards to drain the meal, it reacts. She wasn’t careless enough to kill it, after all. That would ruin the blood. Sealed lips quiver. Hollow eye sockets twitch, trying to focus eyes that no longer exist. Muscles, devoid of limbs to attach to, tense and lock up. Its breaths become short and shaky. 

It attempts to scream.

So rude.

It should remember it has no vocal cords.

After a while, it stills. The meal is over now.

She removes and disposes of the leftovers before returning to her room.

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

Been working on this one for a bit :)

unknown forces compelled me to draw this