#living breeding and dying with no intention from the diamonds to be taken back to earth

[chilewithcarnage]

not reblogging cause this is that white girl that caused all that discourse around the sayhername hash tag, but I wanted to make a response. like obviously she ra and su are for kids but if you're gonna tackle heavy subjects like war and colonialism which all these shows do explicitly, it's a little jarring when the end result is...singing songs and open arms. Like atla had a lotta problems in regards to the narrative views of actions by victims of said colonialism (hama, jet, etc.) But at least in the end ozai was unquestionably the bad guy and treated as such. aang didn't kill him but he was in the end dethroned and imprisoned for his numerous war crimes (high key iroh should've been too, but that would've required an entire story rewrite). In su, the diamonds killed their own kind for eons and even planned to destroy earth. Blue Diamond had a human zoo and this was supposed to be seen as 'cute'. They were literally called Zoomans! Like no Steven himself shouldn't have shattered the diamonds cause no kid should have blood on their hands but idk why in the entire episode of Bismuth's introduction we were suppose to be scared of her and view her as incorrect when the Diamonds literally killed all of her comrades save for the crystal gems. like the diamonds were reformed and now use their powers for 'good' but whose to say that can't change.

[criohyer]

here is only room in her heart for one. canine jaw ajar, razor-sharp teeth kindred to granitic glass formed by the rapid cooling of lava bare themselves. its chassis a crossbreed with an unripe emerald snake as it's impetuous forked tongue wraps her within it. opprobrious intent, it swallows her as easily as i could drink from my veins as if it were from a goblet. decimate her soul into several pieces as it kills in large numbers like mutineers from the roman army that wish to engorge her, no mauling opposition is capable to prevail its disarm. deep in the cell of her heart, she's a prison to her own body, she could only weep for the still-pulsing blood organs in her that will not stop. she wouldn't notice if her head were to collapse, her mind is elsewhere to separate herself from the pain of living, the pain of being a prisoner to man.

the truth is, she doesn't want neither of us. neither myself or god in her heart. whomever she was has disappeared and in her place is overgrown ruins. merely, she is the artefact of the girl that is glad to go. if a song dropped from the dark unsure if it were death and it sung her to sleep, she would be quite happy not to wake up. cast out into a casket buried with roses but death isn't like that, it isn't rest. it's just rot.

only i would teach her to desire something else entirely. something very simple. and that is to not wake up on her own. through the weeks that i had left her, rope burning her wrists as shadows absorb her sense of feeling. she forgets what fingertips feel like, what a voice sounds like, what warmth feels like. when she is closed and used up and i am stretched at my fullest width ready to give she wants to jump into me and feel this life as i do perhaps then she could give as i do, perhaps then she could live as i do. she merely is yanking me into her for the very reason that the one thing that is more sought after than her own death is not having anyone at all while she knows impenetrable desolation.

i am inside her blood pumped diamond and nobody else. i am in her head, all she can hear is my whispers that sound like the slithering of a snake on the underworld. there is no space for anyone else and if anyone tries to find an abode in her bones i will smash their teeth to smithereens by stomping their head onto a gutter. if god tries to test me with blood swimming in my mouth from sore gums, my last word will be her name while i nail god himself and his henchmen on crucifixes, set them alight and have the bloodhounds devour their left over carrion. then and only then will i rip out the roots of the holy testament from the dirt in the ground and drain the earth of its light.

hell has risen, can't you see? it's in the air. you're breathing it in. it's on your tongue. you can taste it. the sky is as black as infuscate wings fluttering into darkness. can you hear it? before dawn, trembling in air down to the old river the sound of the earth curdling, convulsing, rupturing. some said the sound of thunder called the lurking fear out of hiding while others said it was its voice.

there is a screaming to be heard in the corridors of a russian asylum. in a dimly lit room with a steel bed, a twist of the bones and a bend of the back, the spine textured like two pebbles grinding and all there is to be heard is anguish correlated within the slabs of the brickwork. three nuns stand at the bed frame while a priest is stood at the foot, he is holding a vile of holy water and a rosary in one hand with the bible in the other. between the caterwauls there is the chanting and shouting of verses to rebuke evil. the demon mocks and the shadows snigger. there is bloating of internal organs that has them belch up fluids from inside the lungs of the demon and it convulses in throat to spurt outside the mouth on chin. ублю́док! у твоего отца была дворняга, кажется, ублюдок из породы бульдогов. (your father had a mongrel. a bastard from the mutt breed of bulldogs.) words of ridicule rip from the demons lungs and it refuses to relent.

katerina's fate is similar. she has a demon that has latched onto her and it has an obstinate wish to never give up a vessel. it will never relent. unfortunately, she is not quite like nettles with dust that are lost except to prove the sweetness of a shower. for katerina to become cleansed of her impurity she is to be wrung out dry and void the swollen red from the horizon. inflammation to gnaw the gloaming blue. bleaker clouds have bruised and sever to the lances of dying sun. hung bedsheets balter on as all else grows stagnant. the evil has taken her, and she is not coming back. that is the real tragedy.

i promised i would stay. have you made this promise before? you know, katerina. if i am to really have you i am to rid you of every other man who has touched you. every other man that you have lied to and loved.

she pushes further into me and i feel the curvature of her sink into me like she might be laying on a duvet wishing to get warmer, i listen to the way she responds as i touch her. one of my arms snaking around her ribs i tighten her into me like a corset the moment i feel her hand atop of my own as it restricts around her throat. she says yes, but her body says something entirely else. it piques my interest, the further i unravel her the more i am fascinated. what does she really want?

she turn in my lap climbs to face me, my hands situate on her hips and my jaw ajars forward in the direction she desires. because i love you. my breath becomes caught in my lungs. i should have captured as much as i could before i would have to breathe again. apple in throat visibly swallows, and my heart blooms. suddenly, an asteraceae is able to grow in a bed full of toxins. something festers in the stomach of the cabin, erodes its linings, eats the guises of its ghosts. 'fore fingertips find the brass lion and baroque style manor i own at home, those vestiges of scab, ash and dust are glamoured after a den. lampshades cast a lulling light over the floorboards and furnishings, walls flanked with mahogany columns, inviting prey inside. what had i really captured? am i the prey and once she is done with me i will be disintegrated.

if she is playing me for a fool, should i be tricked anyway? the lull in her eyes is hypnotising. it's the matter that only instinct wishes to settle in and take over, take guard in case she decides to rip my heart out.

"i know you said you wanted to die. now that you love me could you bare to leave me in a world without you when you take your life?" nimble digits reach for one of her wrists where he sees the bruises and rope burns around them, he presses his lips against the skin where it is wounded. "i want you to love me, i want you to want to be with me. i want to feel like i can open the door of this cabin and let you roam without you trying to run from me." furrowed eyebrows, hands rest on her thighs as my gaze drills into hers.

"i want to know that i won't come home to you threatening to kill yourself. i can't find you not breathing in this cabin. i need to know that what i offer you is enough to make you change your mind about self destruction." desperation heard in my voice. "if you want ruin, leave me in ashes. rip me apart. god knows it's the most i deserve."

"there's something inside of you kate. i seen it at the bar, i seen it in your eyes in the woods. i think i was wrong about it then. now i think you will stop at nothing to slaughter yourself if i don't do it for you." i'll wake one morning and she will have forced a knife in my hand, piercing cry at me to do it. get rid of the screaming meemies. she's just bones in a box and i have to wake up.

baby, why are you all wet? i approach her and she's sitting on a gazebo next to the lake, her body damp and her clothes soaked. she's drowned our children. any happiness we could have had. i'm searching a body of water, there's nothing but an empty nihility. i drag bodies out from the lake. i have never dragged out bodies that weren't my own victims. perhaps this is the price i pay thinking i could be capable of love, katerina would have to be just as sick. i crouch aside them, she crawls into my lap. deranged, ailed in the mind. she wants to dry them off and dress them. black earth and silt sat in the papillae of my tongue, the wet and rotten tissue that makes a voice for malaise. "if you ever loved me, katerina. please don't speak." you have to let me go. set me free. there's a bug clicking across her skull, its driving her mad. bright red blood trickles and trails from the wounds, sullying everything as it flows. it oozes, warm and silent. you'll never know its there until you look. you seek it out.

i'll shoot her in the chest and cry into the bloody hole laid against her torso. what good is love that nobody shares?

"i love you." i breathe out a weight on my lungs, my head hangs low as i look down at her her body and i bore my head into her chest. "i trust you." i linger there for a awhile in silence. "i don't want you to be afraid of me. i want you to feel like you aren't helpless of what i can do to you."

"i see how you look at weapons..."

sifting a pocket knife from my jeans, i abruptly held it against her neck, not grazing the skin. "do you want to learn how to use them?"