tear-mongering - Tumblr blog

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*seductively lays across your lap and starts crying*

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Send me "Good boy/girl" for my muse's reaction to your muse saying that to them!

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Love is beautiful. Love is destruction  book, song, poetry starter list, feel free to change pronouns or anything else to make it fit your character better! Trigger warnings for blood, violence, etc.

❝ Sacrifice. That’s what we do for the people we love. ❞

❝ I don’t want soft and subtle. I want rough, wild heartache. I want sin. I want you. ❞

❝ I’m carving a space inside you — can you feel it? ❞

❝ Does it hurt to know that I enjoy seeing you like this? ❞

❝ The blood on my teeth begins to taste like religion, like the way you look at me. ❞

❝ I say I want you inside me and you split me open with a knife. ❞

❝ Love is a scar. ❞

❝ I confuse instinct for desire — isn’t bite also touch? ❞

❝ Because you want to die for love, you always have. ❞

❝ If you are intolerable, then let me be the one to tolerate you. ❞

❝ Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. ❞

❝ All that blood was never once beautiful, it was just red. ❞

❝ Give me poison apples so you never leave my tongue. ❞

❝ Give me shards of glass, sharper than any thorn, so you’ll always be in my grasp. ❞

❝ I threw a punch just to touch his face. ❞

❝ The enormity of my desire disgusts me. ❞

❝ I want to take you home and rough you up and get my hands inside you, drive my body into yours like a crash test car. ❞

❝ The blood is rare and as sweet as cherry wine. ❞

❝ I have never known closeness like this. ❞

❝ Whatever I’ve done, I’ve done it for love. ❞

❝ I love you so much I’m going to let you kill me. ❞

❝ You cut me apart and I said it was creation. I can still feel the knife. ❞

❝ I kissed your scars even after you hurt me. ❞

❝ The way she shows me I’m hers and she is mine — open hand or closed fist, oh, would be fine ❞

❝ Bite me: sign my death with your teeth. ❞

❝ Desire is a promise. ❞ / ❝ Desire is a knife. ❞

❝ Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. ❞

❝ It is a monstrous love and it makes monsters of us all. ❞

❝ I never understood desire until I felt your hands around my throat. ❞

❝ Whether you come as a lover or an executioner, I am ready to receive you. ❞

❝ Show me your thorns and I’ll show you hands ready to bleed. ❞

❝ I would love to be ruined if it means I am sacred enough to be kept close. ❞

❝ I don’t know how to love someone without swallowing them. ❞

❝ If you are a knife, give me the blade. Some things are worth spilling blood for. ❞

❝ The same sin binds us. ❞

❝ To be loved is to be consumed. ❞

❝ I need your teeth in me, slow and vicious. Tell me my armor is just skin and bones. Only bones. ❞

❝ Want me down to the marrow. ❞

❝ In loving me you hold a knife to my throat. In loving you, I tell you where to cut. ❞

❝ Stay away from the ones you love too much. These are the ones who will kill you. ❞

❝ All that matters is that you want to hurt me. All that matters is you want me. ❞

❝ I had a dream last night that you and I were painfully connected. ❞

❝ I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck. ❞

❝ We’re what we swore we’d not become. ❞

❝ Some things you do for money, some you only do for love. ❞

❝ You are the knife I turn inside myself. ❞

❝ This is what love is for — wanting to give your blood when everything is over. ❞

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💧 Siiiiigh... Another dreary day in Hell. Alastor watches the rain with a somber expression. This weather was made for him, but he couldn't find himself willing to dance and sing in the rain.

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[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'There's a Skibidi Toilet movie in the works.' to Cas' 'I love you'. /End ID]

We may not live in the absolute worst timeline but we definitely live in the weirdest. The amount of 'god, please don't let this be true' I felt can be calculated by taking the amount you felt reading this and doubling it.

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This is the last letter of Marie Antoinette, written in the early morning hours of October 16th on the day of her execution. Her sham trial had stretched across three days, and had concluded that morning with her being sentenced to death. After the verdict was read, she was brought back to her cell in the Conciergerie and penned this tear stained letter to her sister in law, Madame Elisabeth. It would never reach its’ intended recipient. It is often stated that the letter was kept by Robespierre and found among his things after his death, but this is unproven.

16th October, 4.30 A.M. It is to you, my sister, that I write for the last time. I have just been condemned, not to a shameful death, for such is only for criminals, but to go and rejoin your brother. Innocent like him, I hope to show the same firmness in my last moments. I am calm, as one is when one’s conscience reproaches one with nothing. I feel profound sorrow in leaving my poor children: you know that I only lived for them and for you, my good and tender sister. You who out of love have sacrificed everything to be with us, in what a position do I leave you! I have learned from the proceedings at my trial that my daughter was separated from you. Alas! poor child; I do not venture to write to her; she would not receive my letter. I do not even know whether this will reach you. Do you receive my blessing for both of them. I hope that one day when they are older they may be able to rejoin you, and to enjoy to the full your tender care. Let them both think of the lesson which I have never ceased to impress upon them, that the principles and the exact performance of their duties are the chief foundation of life; and then mutual affection and confidence in one another will constitute its happiness. Let my daughter feel that at her age she ought always to aid her brother by the advice which her greater experience and her affection may inspire her to give him. And let my son in his turn render to his sister all the care and all the services which affection can inspire. Let them, in short, both feel that, in whatever positions they may be placed, they will never be truly happy but through their union. Let them follow our example. In our own misfortunes how much comfort has our affection for one another afforded us! And, in times of happiness, we have enjoyed that doubly from being able to share it with a friend; and where can one find friends more tender and more united than in one’s own family? Let my son never forget the last words of his father, which I repeat emphatically; let him never seek to avenge our deaths. I have to speak to you of one thing which is very painful to my heart, I know how much pain the child must have caused you. Forgive him, my dear sister; think of his age, and how easy it is to make a child say whatever one wishes, especially when he does not understand it. It will come to pass one day, I hope, that he will better feel the value of your kindness and of your tender affection for both of them. It remains to confide to you my last thoughts. I should have wished to write them at the beginning of my trial; but, besides that they did not leave me any means of writing, events have passed so rapidly that I really have not had time. I die in the Catholic Apostolic and Roman religion, that of my fathers, that in which I was brought up, and which I have always professed. Having no spiritual consolation to look for, not even knowing whether there are still in this place any priests of that religion (and indeed the place where I am would expose them to too much danger if they were to enter it but once), I sincerely implore pardon of God for all the faults which I may have committed during my life. I trust that, in His goodness, He will mercifully accept my last prayers, as well as those which I have for a long time addressed to Him, to receive my soul into His mercy. I beg pardon of all whom I know, and especially of you, my sister, for all the vexations which, without intending it, I may have caused you. I pardon all my enemies the evils that they have done me. I bid farewell to my aunts and to all my brothers and sisters. I had friends. The idea of being forever separated from them and from all their troubles is one of the greatest sorrows that I suffer in dying. Let them at least know that to my latest moment I thought of them. Farewell, my good and tender sister. May this letter reach you. Think always of me; I embrace you with all my heart, as I do my poor dear children. My God, how heart-rending it is to leave them forever! Farewell! farewell! I must now occupy myself with my spiritual duties, as I am not free in my actions. Perhaps they will bring me a priest; but I here protest that I will not say a word to him, but that I will treat him as a total stranger.

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Waiting for This Story to End Before I Begin Another, Jan Heller Levi//Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds, Ada Limón

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Those Sweet and Painful Memories, Danny Castillones Sillada//Richard Siken

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C.P. Mulvaney, “Reverie” (1872)

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    I don't currently have any icons for Bambi here... I intended to make some but just ended up playing BG3 all day.

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Dulce María Loynaz, tr. by James O’Connor, from Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems

[Text ID: “You adorned my breast with a necklace of tears. / You wove me a dress with petals of blood.”]

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Belladonna of Sadness (1973) dir. Eiichi Yamamoto

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Virgin Mary tears

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Clarice Lispector, from “The Servant”, Complete Stories (tr. by Katrina Dodson)