#poetry-written-in-blood

[andyridgeley]

the air purifier advice please 🙏

hello!!!!! yes, i will info dump some of the things i come across at work everyday, hopefully it helps!

Quick overview on how air purifiers work: ok so purifiers don't "kill" bacteria/particles which is a lot of the marketing you'll see, air purifiers take in air, filter out particles, and push out clean air back into your home so you don't breathe in the dangerous particles: it's all about airflow (created with a strong motor) and filter type

ONLY trust HEPA and activated carbon filters. every other "technology" out there is not sound, there's no definitive research that proves the effectiveness of any other tech on the market. at best it's ineffective, at worst it's dangerous, i wouldn't trust any of it. some common types of technologies to avoid: ozone generators, ionizers, uv light, when a company has their own "patented tech" that isn't HEPA or carbon

HEPA: this targets airborne particles. dust, pet dander, mold spores, pollen, smoke particles

ACTIVATED CARBON: this targets gasses, volatile organic chemicals (VOCs), odors, smoke odors

Try to find a purifier that's going to cover a lot of your home or at least an entire room - they're portable so I suggest moving them around during the day if you can and bringing them into your bedroom at night.

Finding a purifier that covers your home/room: suggested air changes per hour (ACH) is 4.8 - many companies will list 1 ACH for their square foot coverage to make it seem like it can cover a lot, and it's just not true. Companies SHOULD be sharing their clean air delivery rate (CADR) information that is connected to ENERGY STAR and is tested by the regulatory agency so they cannot fudge their numbers, if they don't share this information it's a red flag

Check CADR and square foot coverage at 4.8 ACH for a product HERE

For example: an air purifier that can clean 1,000 sq ft in 60 minutes with 1 ACH, can clean 500 sq ft in 30 minutes with 2 ACH, and 80 sq ft in 12.5 minutes with 4.8 ACH (it's confusing, i know, but it's important to have a purifier(s) strong enough to clean your indoor space)

Air quality sensors built into purifiers are cheap, i don't trust them to accurately portray your indoor air quality readings, also the apps are...awful: the markets been flooded with smart purifiers it's tough to find one that DOESN'T have an app attached to it. there's nothing wrong with a smart purifier, its up to the user, but its that they can up the price with the add-ons that don't help the main goal of your purifier: clean your indoor air and create healthy indoor air quality in your home

Cross ventilation helps, open those windows!!! air out your home!!! but don't open them on high pollen count or bad air quality days or if you're located near high pollution or close to an active wildfire or smoke. you can check US location air quality HERE ALSO, don't run your air purifiers while you have the windows open. they'll try to clean the outside airflow too, rendering it pretty ineffective.

Look for certifications!!! ENERGY STAR, AHAM, CARB, INTERTEK - these are independent safety and performance certifications that companies have to go through a testing process to receive them, it's not just marketing these are regulations and are standard - if a company doesn't share these results or aren't certified MAJOR red flag

Run those purifiers 24/7!!!!! If they're ENERGY STAR certified (they should be, look for the logo!!) it shouldn't affect your energy bill in a significant way

Just because a purifier costs more doesn't mean it performs better!! just focus on the air cleaning ability: the thing a purifier IS MEANT TO DO: and try to forget about the rest

Unfortunately, a good purifier is always going to be a bit of an investment. the mini purifiers out there and the wearable ones just do not do anything, i wish they did, but filters need surface area to be effective, they're too small, and the motor isn't efficient.

Good news is there should be some very good sales coming up in november!!!! stay safe!!

[antikr1sta]

(tw sh/blood/vent art) "i hate it here, i hate the smell and fluorescent lights, but most of all I hate you", he utters, gazing at his own face in the reflection of a dirty mirror; as both are only hanging on by a thread.

blood/injury tw ↓

..yeah.. i really really hate it here

[atopvisenyashill]

Thoughts on the Alysanne is Maegor's daughter AU? I feel like it has some interesting potential, and it vastly recontextualizes different parts of Jaehaehae (I do not like him sjsjsjs) and Alysanne's relationship (such as Jaehaehae's treatment of their daughters) but I wanna hear what you think about it!

I’ve touched on this a bit before but since you actually want to hear my thoughts, allow me to present to you my Jaehaerys Is The Goddamn Worst, And Alysanne Annoys Me Too: An Essay lmao but my answer is basically “yeah all of what you just said.”

I think it makes Alysanne much more palatable (to me) as a character because as she stands, she just fixates on forcing her daughters through these fucked up marriages at too young an age bc it traumatized her to be married and pregnant at 15 too but she’d never admit that being a willing participant in her own kidnapping by her brother-husband was the single worst thing that ever happened to her, and because Alysanne doesn’t want to admit it (and Jaehaerys would never see it as wrong or a mistake) F&B really shies away from delving into the fact that Alysanne is as deranged of a mother as Cersei is. So as she stands, she’s very flat to me because she’s presented very flatly and inconsistently. She’s so in love with Jaehaerys, she’s maritally raped by Jaehaerys, she’s a loving and doting mother, she forces her daughters into marriages when they’re the same too young age she was, she accuses her teenage girls of being scheming whores then gets angry when her husband accuses their teenage girls of being scheming whores, and worst of all we are just told “Maegelle tells them to make up so they do” so we don’t know why Alysanne gets over all of this. What is the point of riding a dragon when you never use that dragon to protect your daughters from unwanted teen marriages? We’re just not given a good enough justification for why her behavior is so weird and frustrating towards her daughters.

Make her Maegor’s daughter though…most of her behavior as an adult makes more sense. Like a worse version of Rhaenyra’s childhood almost - a father desperate for a son, but lowkey obsessed with his daughter, who makes all his hang ups about his parents the problems of every woman around him, except Maegor is out here blood sacrificing and torturing and starting wars and forcing babies on wives he discards quickly and brutally. Then here comes Jaehaerys on a white horse green dragon to save her from the horror her life has become, and he loves her so much he runs away with her even though Alyssa says they shouldn’t marry because people won’t like it. And they have beautiful children, and a beautiful marriage, and build a beautiful kingdom.

Then her pregnancies start getting dangerous. Gaemon, then Valerion, die. Alysanne thinks of the shriveled up mutants she called brothers, if Maegor’s taint has passed to her. Her perfect husband ignores her no, and forces Gael on her. Alysanne remembers that he said nothing to Rogar when Alyssa died, merely wept. Then her daughters start to die. Daella, Alyssa, Viserra, all within a few years. Then Jaehaerys makes Saera watch as he murders her boyfriend, calls her a whore, and says Alysanne cannot follow Saera to Lys. Alysanne thinks of Maegor torturing the Harroways over Alys’ presumed infidelity. Jaehaerys says he’s sorry, and her daughter badgers her into forgiving him, and she remembers how she helped Jaehaerys badger Alyssa into forgiving Rogar. Not two years later, Jaehaerys passes over Rhaenys. Alysanne thinks of how she was never enough for her father, how she felt so superior to Rhaena banished to Dragonstone and resented by Aerea, yet there she is dragging Gael away from court because she can’t stand to be with Jaehaerys. How her father was surrounded by dead women and dead babies and how Jaehaerys is surrounded by his own dead daughters, but surely she did the right thing, surely Maegor was worse, surely the realm is better off? Is he right to pass over Rhaenys? Is she enabling a man just as monstrous as her father? She will never decide, because Maegelle will guilt her about keeping Gael isolated at Dragonstone, and Alysanne will do as she’s told, just like Rhaena, and Alyssa, and Jeyne, Elinor, Ceryse, Alys, and Tyanna, just like every one of her daughters.

I do get why Alysanne is Alyssa & Aenys’ and not Maegor’s. The weird Targ babies, the line not descending from Visenya, Jaehaerys and Alysanne being held up as the perfect Targaryen couple specifically because they are brother and sister and dragon riders. I do even think canon Alysanne is likely traumatized by her time as a hostage on Dragonstone, and the ensuing war, and the trauma bond that caused with Jaehaerys, and it makes her idolize Jaehaerys, and then he isolates her at Dragonstone so he can swiftly and safely marry, groom, and knock her up. It’s not like,,,, a fun time, and it’s enough to make anyone crazy and weird about their daughters, but I think having her father be Maegor makes Alysanne herself much deeper because it gives her, as the most beloved Targaryen queen, a blood tie to the most hated Targaryen king, and a marriage to the most beloved Targaryen king. It fits better with a lot of the themes of the main series (again, imo) - forcing the spotlight on the outsiders to see how the affect the story from behind the scenes. The fall of Aegon’s sons, and The Long Reign, not told from the PoV or to serve the PoV of any of the kings or princes, but of the queen that tied them all together.

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 7: Blood (words: 1600)

First Previous Next

(We All End Up Remains of the Day)

“Now that’s a story,” said a disembodied, purring voice.

There was a burst of violet flames on the counter and then, there was a cat. Charles let out a startled laugh. The Cat’s yellow eyes pierced him, before it sauntered past him to Edwin.

“A story of the ages,” it said with flair and ignored Charles’ bewildered staring.

“Of love, trust and betrayal most vile.”

The way the Cat sat back on its hindlegs to emphasize with its paws made Charles suppress another laugh.

“We don’t need to do all that,” Edwin said bitterly, like this conversation had been over with many times.

“Oh, but we do,” the Cat gasped theatrically, “how else is the fiancée here supposed to know anything about you, dove?”

Edwin sulked, rolling his eyes. Charles was far too amused watching the enigmatic Talking Cat that swayed its way across the counter like it was its personal catwalk. Jenny leaned back on the shelves, completely unbothered by anything that was happening.

The Cat twisted its sleek body in a way that probably wasn’t possible, the candlelight hitting ink black fur and making it shine. Then it leapt into the air and before it hit the ground, the violet flames had swallowed it again.

The flash of fire reappeared on top of the piano. But instead of a cat, it was a man with slicked black hair in finger waves. He was wearing a luscious satin robe with a fur trim, loosely tied around his waist.

He snapped his fingers in the air.

“Hit it, boys,” he smirked, lounging on the piano, eyes fixed on Charles and Edwin.

The skeleton sitting there jerked into action, hitting a rhythmic tune on the piano.

“Please, pay him no mind,” Edwin leaned over to Charles. “He does this every time someone asks.”

“Hey!” The Cat yowled, getting everyone’s attention.

He leapt on to his feet between the band, summoning a spotlight on him with another snap of his fingers. The bass, the sax and the xylophone made out of bones came alive around him, the skeletons reanimated by their love of music.

“Give me a listen, you corpses of cheer

Least those of you who still got an ear”

There was a mischievous grin on the Cat’s lips when he sauntered over, the crowd parting before him. He approached Edwin, standing eye to eye with him when the other was sitting down. Charles saw his gaze flash yellow, with slit feline pupils.

“I’ll tell you a story, put you out of your gloom

Of our own tenaciously gentle corpse groom”

His hand brushed a caress on Edwin’s cheek, before reluctantly pulling back. Edwin’s expression was steely, without betraying any emotion.

Charles wasn’t sure what was going on but he was stoked they had a song about Edwin. The tune was plenty dramatic, like something from a soap opera, performed with the same fervor.

The Cat turned with a flash, reappearing on his spot on the raised stage. Multicolored spotlights danced around him, breaking off and stretching the shadows.

“Well

Our son is a sweetheart and a real catch, too

Dreaming of a boy he could call his boo”

Behind him on the wall, a silhouette of a young man appeared, moving like a puppet, representing Edwin.

Charles moved to take a sip of his drink while keeping his eyes on the show, when Edwin put his fingers on the rim of his glass. When he gave him a puzzled look, Edwin’s eyes were serious.

“You must know about the rule of eating or drinking anything while visiting,” he leaned in with a low murmur, close to Charles’ ear.

Charles put down the glass discreetly. He wasn’t sure what Edwin was referencing, but he had a feeling it was better to listen.

“Then here’s a new guy, an older lad

Who could've guessed his heart was bad”

The Cat summoned another shadow figure on the wall. The taller man circled Edwin’s puppet like a shark.

“He fell for a man with grace and tact!

With violence and greed, now that’s a fact

For he was a fake, his plan’s so foul

Told him to pack, now where art thou?”

The Cat’s voice roared, his tale enrapturing the audience. Everyone except Charles probably knew this already, but every soul inside the bar was holding in their shocked gasps.

“Down to the basement he took our son”

The Cat lowered his voice, the lights going down. A shiver traveled up Charles’ spine, making him shift uncomfortably.

“For he knew already that he had won”

Yellow eyes shone in the darkness. Not once had Charles been scared here, but looking at those eyes, he grasped a hint of a much scarier, much more powerful nature. He was suddenly aware that he was the only person here who was alive.

Everyone else had already met their demise. And some of those fates were unfair, violent or sudden. Anyone could die, at any time, without a warning. It only took a moment of bad luck, one misstep or an ill-advised decision. Sometimes it was as simple as trusting the wrong person.

“And then?” Came a breathy question from the dark, urging the Cat to reveal the twist.

“The shadow looms”, the Cat whispered. Edwin’s silhouette flickered on the wall, looking around, confused.

“And then?” Another one demanded.

“There’s nothing there.” The basement is empty. Behind Edwin’s back, the man’s shadow grows larger and more beast-like.

“And then?!”

The Cat’s eyes are somber. Charles wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he could swear that gaze was fixed on Edwin.

“Then, baby… it was all over.”

It was a mere husky whisper. Even though Charles had known it was coming, he could still feel his heart seizing with a cold, painful squeeze. On the wall, the large shadow jumps on Edwin, swallowing him whole. A choked sound got caught in Charles’ throat.

A life, ripped away just like that. Edwin, dead before reaching even twenty years of age, without any fault of his own.

The lights turned back on all at the same time. The Cat had ripped the satin robe off his body, revealing tight leather pants and black mesh shirt covered in glitter. He was a sparkling, glimmering sight, when he strutted on the edge of the stage.

“A strike to the head, it was quick as a flash

Now the body’s disappeared with all the cash”

He shook his head and closed his eyes in an act of pity. He had a tantalizing way of moving, light on his feet, making it impossible to look away. He sat down on the ledge, one leg up, to tell the story.

“Now our son’s gone missing in an “act of God”

A verdict so twisted that’ll make you sob”

The music swelled, reflecting the growing anger towards the injustice of Edwin’s death. The Cat’s voice was but a snarl when he hissed out the following verses.

“Yet God had no part in it nor a hand

It all comes down to the cruelty of man”

Charles felt the hair on the nape of his neck standing up. He tried to ignore the full-body chills that were way too familiar, the slight quivering of his hands when fear tightened its grip on him.

He was intimately acquainted with what that cruelty entailed. He wished Edwin would’ve been spared from that.

Charles stole a glance at Edwin, whose face stayed neutral. From the side, you couldn’t see the blood covering the other half. His skin was smooth and unblemished. So young. So soft.

Trailing his gaze on the grooves of that striking profile, Charles landed on his lips, staring at the jagged line where a piece was missing. He had an urge to reach out and touch it.

The Cat’s song turned softer, a ballad-like lament. In one swift spell he was back in front of Edwin, a smile spreading on his lips.

“Left without love, he settles in to wait”

The Cat pulled Edwin up and stole him away, one hand on his waist, the other clasped with Edwin’s.

“For the groom of his own, swagger to his gait”

The way they waltzed was so smooth and seamless, like they were gliding across the floor, weightless and graceful. Charles couldn’t stop looking, even if the other man’s possessive hold awakened something ugly inside his chest.

Edwin was mesmerizing to watch. His movement was elegant, almost alluring, the white of his suit glowing in the lights.

Charles wondered, how had an angel ended up here, amidst regular mortals?

He yelped when he was shoved from behind and stumbled forward, barely keeping his footing.

“Confesses his love, whips out a ring”

Charles was pushed by the enthusiastic crowd and suddenly he found himself chest to chest with Edwin.

“One living, one dead, now they’re a thing”

Without more than a nod, Edwin picked up Charles’ hand. He put it on his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around Charles’ waist. Their fingers intertwined naturally, slotting perfectly together.

“A match for the ages, their love in a bloom”

Edwin took Charles along, leading him with confident steps. Charles picked it up quickly and was rewarded with a satisfied smile, something so endearing it made his heart leap in his chest. He’d do anything to please Edwin, if he could just see him smile again.

The colorful lights washed over Edwin’s shoulders, reflecting from the bottomless depths of his eyes. They were looking at Charles, now, full of pure contentment and love.

“And that’s the happy end for our corpse groom!”

[beautifullymacabre]

and what of me when my pain is no longer beautiful?

all mystery washed away

entrails laid before you

still wet

still writhing

divined with no answer to be found

in the absence of meaning,

my gore is just that-

gore.

with no lace

no jewels

no perfumes

nothing remains to distract from the wriggling creatures within

not waiting before they begin to devour

what of me then?

my inevitable decay in sharp relief

the heavy, cloying scent of my eternal exsanguination closing in to suffocate

no dazzling smile

no right hand to distract from my left

can you stand ankle deep in the slaughterhouse and still love the pig?

can you wade through putrid violence and still pity the butcher?

[im-an-anthusiast]

The God of Gold and Iron and Rust

Children sing for the God of Gold 

The hero does as he was told 

Does exactly what the world needs 

No children to sing of his deeds 

Forks jingle for the God of Gold 

Kings laugh through mouthfuls they can’t hold 

Food spills from between lips too full 

Greasy chins, wiped with lavish wool 

A gilding, gleaming, shining Gold 

Written in it – stories of old 

Plaques of statues, poems still sung 

Of stars – or those, who killed the young 

Men pray to the God of Iron  

Doing as told, by a scion 

Liquid iron dripping off blade 

The source of it – is now unmade  

Bars clang for the God of Iron  

Men sob through mouthfuls of iron 

Gnawing at restraints, spitting up blood 

Leashed tight and grovelling in mud 

A constraining, sharpened Iron 

Caging a trick, circus lion 

Both flowing crimson and sharp grey 

Both laceration and the spray 

Children cry for the God of Rust 

As the hero does what he must 

One future dies for the other 

Many end, to birth another 

Chains jangle for the God of Rust 

Corpses sing through mouthfuls of dust  

Refrains in tongues long forgotten 

Odes tear from jaws, stale and rotten 

A starving, all-consuming Rust  

Feasting on dreams that didn’t last 

Stagnancy spreads through the red rot 

Eating away at what one’s not 

The God of the Undeserving 

For Him they cry, they pray, they sing 

For Her they gild, they kill, they rot 

To Them, they are Deserving not 

The God of the Undeserving 

The God of all – child, man, or king 

The God of all – die, reign, or serve 

The God of none – for none Deserve 

The God of the Undeserving 

Has but one truly believing 

It is them who accept love’s feeling 

Despite knowing – they are Undeserving 

[dandelionsinthepavement]

a craving for that cold metallic warmth hidden in quietly thrumming veins under layers of skin so easily peeled away a less than graceful habit tasting a mouthful of red — slowly dragging it out through teeth and skin and lips that linger a sickening craving, a hunger — swallowing like a fire being smothered hands stained and head reeling a pathetic need, a curse. fangs brushing against flesh & a harsh hound, a bloodthirsty canine your torpid movements and a devotion to those who will lay waste to you.

[trickstersaint]

I’m your first patron Saint of creation! I think about Frankenstein all the time so I think your quiz worked.

!!!! whoo!!! gonna be so honest i was stressed out watching the quiz stats for the first few hours there cause the stats for creation sat at zero percent for so long... but. y'know. i think that creation has lower stats cause it requires you to make some of the brighter and more positive choices and it's not always clear where any positives are in that quiz even If you are a naturally bright and optimistic person... anyway. delightful to see all the people getting the creation result cause they are the Only people who are actively happy with the result that they got lmao

[tortured-poets-blog]

I remember ripping my heart out of my chest, serving it to you in a silver platter.

I remember the blood on yours hands, the maddening glint of your eyes; of a man long starved.

I remember you taking a bite. I, all flesh. You, all teeth.

Still I scream: Devour me, Devour me. Here's my heart-here's what's truly yours.

In that moment, you relished. Is this all mine? You ask. Who else would stain their hands red for me? I reply. You smile.

And I don't mind. As long as the blood in your mouth is mine.

But then;

I remember your satiated look; that realisation that all that blood was no longer beautiful. It was just red. I should've known you hate a mess.

Your eyes are somber as you wipe your hands. I was too much and you lost your appetite.

You've already left the table, but here's my leftovers. Chewed up pieces of flesh and blood. You don't want them but they are not mine anymore.

And I protest; it was yours, all yours. You have marked me with your hands. Come back. Dilute me, make me more digestible for you.

For you.

For you.

I remember serving my heart to you in a platter, i wish you had just tossed it aside instead.

(v proud of this one :p)

[usagichay]

A Hunger that craves no bounds—🫀

TW: writing depicts Gore & Cannibalism as a metaphor & allegory for emotional connection, intercourse and intimacy

[xyliaxart]

Executioner

Dragging like chains the train of her diamond dress The sound a warning, already mourning the soon-to-be mess

Mourning this man, the lamb, albatross hung on his neck Out in the storm, already worn, thrown from the deck

Eyes so clear, no stench of fear, a shame that looks can't kill A spear of revolt, to cut his throat, and let sweet ichor spill

Claiming that which, with wicked tricks, she has truly earned Ill-gotten gains, his former claims, now they belong to her

She now walks down a moonlit aisle, a crimson step turned crimson mile Out amongst the rank and file, the bloody teeth to a twisted smile

[creatediana]

"Lines Written Hastily on Someone Else's Desk" - a poem written 3/27/2024

I have to sneak into your desk— I've calculated every risk— I have to test out all your pens and blot out with them my chagrins. I have an urge for every ink— for every mark I make I rank the color and the thickness.—In my rainbow correspondent brain this is the peak of knowledge—yes, the summit of my study's bliss. I snoop and steal to these fair ends— my paper keeps exotic winds.

[sualne]

today i offer you poetry in a fictional dead language that doesnt exist.

[habitual-creatures]

ATTEMPTING TO GET BACK IN THE PATTERN OF WRITING POETRY.

ENJOY...

[ REGARDS, HABIT ]

HUNGER // SIN

THERE IS NOTHING LESS THAN NEED,

OF FLESH UPON THE TEETH.

I WATCHED HER BLEED,

TORE HER THROUGH, AND SAW BONE UNDERNEATH.

ISN'T SHE BEAUTIFUL?

WASN'T SHE GRAND?

HE CALLED IT UNSUITABLE,

HE WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND.

IT MADE HIM SICK.

BUT IN TRUTH,

IT MADE ME TICK;

HOW BLOOD RAN DOWN, LIKE SMOOTH VERMOUTH

AS HE THINKS OF HER,

HUNGER RISES AGAIN.

AND THERE LIES NO WAY TO DETER,

FROM THE TRUE FOLLIES OF MEN.

LEFT DRUNK ON THE HIGH,

WITH THE FADED MEMORY OF TASTE.

AS IT LEAVES WITH A DESPERATE CRY,

I AM YET DRAWN TO YOUR DISGRACE.

INVITE ME IN,

PRAY I AM NOT STARVED.

MY TONGUE IS SWEET AS BITTER SIN,

AND ALL OF HUMANITY HAS MY REGARDS.

[horrorlesbians]

hey i remember you posting a gifset with a really gnarly original poem of yours in it, and i saw you talking about your writing, is there a tag you have with some more of it

all of my poems + people using my poems in compilation posts are tagged with 'my poetry'!

[fatedwritings]

I don't understand why I can pick up a newspaper and only see the black and white, never the nuance of the grey stories printed on paper. I know they exist. I know the world exists in more than the plain I see. So why does trying to view more make my brain bleed? I don't know. All I can do is use the newspaper as a bandage to try and stop the bleeding as red seeps into my black and white world. I have to look borderline insane for making the joke: "What's black, white, and red all over?" Not realizing that my bloody newspaper became my red flag.