Taken nicknames (I am likely missing some, feel free to tell me): ❤️🩹 suerte, s anon, Hephaestus, Dirty Little Anon (DLA), Coffiny anon, Cloud anon, xx anon, 🎀 Dollienon 🎀, <4 anon, Ghostface anon, (＾ν＾) anon, dream anon, Delusional Anon (♀️), Luna anon, Hopeless anon, Emoji anon, Snow White anon, BBG anon, 🐈 anon/smol anon,🪴anon/moonshine anon, 🔪🩸,
General warning for obsessive/possessive/yandere behavior, depictions and mentions of kidnapping, stalking, violence, unhealthy relationships, mental illness, voicing intrusive thoughts, etc. I do NOT condone this behavior, this is for venting purposes only.
There will also be mentions of topics such as suicide, SH, and images of blood or weapons (no real life gore/guro). These subjects may not be tagged, so proceed with caution. There will also be some nsfw content that will be tagged as such.
Personal Tags:
#your yandere — my posts or posts relating to me
#your love letters — my writing and loose thoughts
#yandiary — journaling
#aidoneus asks — asks and answers
#nsfw #ns/fw #bd/sm — my dirty thoughts (block those tags if you don’t want that)
#nsfw? — not explicit, but could be suggestive or have that content
#my little one — agere vibed stuff, I was my darling’s caregiver/carer (sfw)
I caught you once, killing a squirrel in our back yard with a rock. Your 8-year-old body shivering, illuminated. Through tears, you told me you loved it. I assumed you meant the squirrel.
Even after I watched the news—clips of a 10 gallon blue vat being carried out of your building, your refrigerator sealed shut with police tape, the pictures of the boys you kissed too hard. Even after I heard what they found in your refrigerator—two human heads and a heart in your freezer—I could not bring myself to call you a monster.
Your father told the reporters that when I was pregnant with you, I experienced seizure-like fits. My swollen body would stiffen, foam at the mouth, and my eyes would peel back like paint as if I was trying to look at you.
The day your apartment building was gutted and paved over, I began to obsess over your baby pictures, for anything that would predict the way you learned to love seeing things inside out.
Your brother legally changed his last name from Dahmer but I, I cannot erase the stretch marks. I still see your eyes in my mirror. The scar where they pulled you like Persephone from my stomach.
There is no reminiscing here. No one wants to hear how you were a wonderful child. They only want to watch your car crash of a life on repeat. Your adolescent obsession with road kill—how you would bike for miles with a garbage bag filled with whatever cadavers you found on the street. How could I possibly not see this coming, they say.
Did I squeeze you too tightly when we crossed the street? Child, when your father and I fought at night, did you mistake it for lovemaking? Did I teach those fingers to pluck families apart like flower petals? I love you, I love you still. Darling, was it the sound of the dead dog's bones as your father dropped them one by one into the bucket that seduced you? Did it sound too much like your pulse? Was it the day I drove away from you—freshly graduated from high school, two months premature of your first murder. Did I put too many states between us? Did you put your own heart in the freezer, next to the thought of me?
Would Mary be forsaken if Jesus had not grown to be the son God had intended to father? If he did not wear a crown of thorns but instead, wrapped it around his knuckles. Will I be forgiven for the sins I did not commit, but created?
When you were small, I told you you can grow up to be anything.
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say,
"I love her for her smile—her look—her way
Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day"—
For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may
Be changed, or change for thee—and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry:
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
— ‘If thou must love me... (Sonnet 14)’ (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears,
and hopes, and joys, and panting miseries,
Tonight if I may guess, thy beauty wears a smile of such delight,
As brilliant and as bright
As when with ravished, aching, nassal eyes,
Lost in a soft amaze
I gaze, I gaze
-John Keats
No, we're not soulmates. This is not divine intervention. And this is most certainly not chance. I willed this. I knit the threads of fate myself until they spelled your name.
I love you intentionally. I love you with every bit of conscience I was born with.
You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.
Mitski / Agnus by Konstantin Korobov / Angela Carter / Marie Lu / Schwolf by Dietmar Gross / Pierre Corneille / Hélène Cixous / Painting: Agnus Dei by Francisco de Zurbarán edit from Pinterest / Unknown / Adira Bennett / Pinterest
There is something so beautiful about reaching out to the monstrous with intent to touch it gently. To risk the sharp teeth and the lethal claws, to defy fear and revulsion, and choose to be delicate with something that can be, and often is, incredibly brutal.
“We don't fall in love with people because they're good people. We fall in love with people whose darkness we recognise. You can fall in love with a person for all of the right reasons, but that kind of love can still fall apart. But when you fall in love with a person because your monsters have found a home in them-- that's the kind of love that owns your skin and bones. Love, I am convinced, is found in the darkness. It is the candle in the night.”
i never understood
what made your lips on my neck
such an intimate affair
until your teeth grazed my pulse
and i realized
you could tear open my throat
and make me bleed out in your arms
but instead
you chose to kiss
Not much between despair and ecstasy @kuunibal - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
