Nina

18

[taxidermycatgirl]

some of the kindest people you’ll ever meet are blogging about blood and guts at 10 in the morning

[ninijr30]

Icarus In His Arms

the sheer intimacy of being unmade by love

There’s something unspeakably intimate about the way he breaks you.

Not with rage, not with fire, but with that soft, sick devotion that makes monsters out of men who think they’re saving you.

He tells you not to cry.

He tells you it’s for your own good.

He tells you he loves you too much to let you go.

You feel his breath against the back of your neck as his hands settle there trembling, reverent. You almost want to believe this is still love, that this is still the same man who once kissed the bruises on your knees after he dragged you from the temple. The same man who promised you a quiet, perfect life.

But then the pain blooms.

It starts deep, where bone meets the ghost of what used to be divine and suddenly it’s not just pain, it’s loss. The sound of tearing isn’t just flesh and feather; it’s every prayer you’ve ever whispered turning into a scream. God, did it hurt.

“No… no, what have I done to you?” you rasped, throat scraped raw. The Seraphina voice you once sang for the Lord with was gone hollowed out, unrecognizable, like He’d taken it back.

He murmurs things as he works,

"you shouldn’t have run",

"you shouldn’t have tried to leave me, I would’ve given you everything."

Each word lands heavier than the next.

When he’s done, you’re trembling so hard it feels like your bones might splinter. You think surely God will take you away from this man, this terrible man. But heaven’s gone quiet lately. God’s gone deaf, or maybe He just stopped caring to listen.

He presses his forehead to the place where your wings once bloomed, breath hot against ruined skin, and whispers that he’s sorry, that it hurts him more than it hurts you. And you believe him, in that awful, sacred way only the damned can. It does hurt him. But he’d still rather peel you open, feather by feather, than ever watch you fly. Because there’s nothing more monstrous than love in the hands of someone who mistakes possession for protection, and worship for ruin.

You were sure now, there’d be no second flight, no foolish try for freedom. You were completely his.

Credits to the owners of the pics above!!

This is very much inspired by Eden the hunter from DOL!! Love that sick fucker

[ninijr30]

This is inspired by someone's poetry i read on pinterest and this was my take on it! Do share your pov on this!!

[ninijr30]

People casually say, “You’re so cute I could eat you.” We don’t mean harm, usually..what we mean is that, your presence overwhelms my capacities for distance. Your nearness calls for a response bigger than touch or sentence so then, eating appears in the imagination because it promises immediacy and security: no separation, no risk. It also promises transformation: what I eat becomes me, the phrase "you're what you eat" is what it is. In a healthy bond, that promise is fulfilled metaphorically, right? we take the other into our habits and hopes. But if the metaphor is driven past safety, what happens? it goes too far, it makes visible the everyday, milder ways we try to internalize the people we love: catchphrases we adopt, tastes we inherit, routes we keep walking after they’re gone. See, love wants: (a) permanence, (b) proximity, (c) certainty. Bodies and time refuse those terms...and cannibalism offers all three permanent inclusion, zero distance, guaranteed possession at the price of the beloved’s existence. The metaphor is therefore diagnostic. When love begins to prize (a)–(c) above the beloved’s distinct life, it slides toward consumption...Love does want to keep and keeping can destroy.

And the truth is that, Being carried within someone can feel like safety but it can also mean erasure so, the most intimate forms of care (feeding, being fed) share a border with the most intimate forms of harm, that is cannibalism! Romance totally depends on distance yk two people, two names, two faces and it also dreams of abolishing that distance, cannibalism is the most brutal abolition imaginable. When you're inside your lover or vice-versa, the spatial problem of intimacy is solved with absolute efficiency. There is no “across,” no “between” only interiority, like, can you be ANY closer to them? Probably no. But this solution cancels what it promised to be perfect. If love marvels at the beloved as other (another person), then eating the beloved erases the very otherness that made love possible.

So its a big philosophical trap: the wish for perfect unity carries the seed of annihilation.

[ninijr30]

I don't like the way this made me feel. The ending part is so true, but good Lord, admitting it feels so blasphemous. Like, yes, You made me in Your image, Lord — then why not make me lovable too, like You? Was it something personal? 🙄

[ninijr30]

Holy shit, bro I didn’t know there were so many ex-Muslims on Tumblr, lol. For once, I actually feel a little understood..

[ninijr30]

The greatest form of affection is cannibalism. Oh? You want to eat me? Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream? Is my heart that beautiful? You would consume it whole? Tear the flesh and let the blood seep into your mouth—raw, metallic, and sweet? You're telling me you would boil my bone marrow in your stews? Store me in your fridge, make me your freezer bride? How romantic... Consume me, pretty baby. I wish to be consumed. Grant me the honor. Grant me such love.

[ninijr30]

I don't think I've felt normal since I've listened to 'strangers' by Ethel Cain.