I AM THE KNIFE WHICH WILL SLAUGHTER HEAVEN

alexander mcqueen "savage beauty"

— Jennifer Chang, from “Freedom in Ohio”, Some Say the Lark

— Ordinary Miracles, ‘Bloodsong’ by Erica Jong

Sympathy for Lady Vengeance (2005) Dir. Park Chan-wook

[ tw for bodily harm / injury ] Not for the first time, Zhan Lei comes home late. The aches in his muscles are familiar and welcome, pain that he knew ripped apart at the sinew of his flesh just so his body could work to stitch it all back together again. An endless cycle he subjects himself to every time he comes to train with his mentor, de facto heir to the leadership of his House. The training took hours, and bruises piled upon bruises, broken bones in his arm jutting against the flesh, begging for his attention. It reminded him of his wife.  And speaking of his wife: She’s here. What a fucking miracle.  He enters their home, discarding his coat and his bloodied shirt using his uninjured arm, gently placing them on the back of a chair, all the while comforted by the smell of her. He knew she was inside their room, and that information gave him a great deal of peace. He didn’t even have to tie her up to keep her there, this time.  “Rin,” he calls her name, the hint of desperation almost scrubbed clean from his tone. Almost. “Come here. I need your blood,” he orders, stepping into their room, warm blood from his wound glistening in the dim lights as he paused by the entryway, hungry eyes laid on her.  Zhan Lei grit his teeth, and waited patiently, bracing himself for the inevitable fight. It always was a struggle to devour his own wife. 

And breathless still is her smile as she uses the full force of her body to slam his injured arm into the wall. 

Kedi. Dir. Ceyda Torun. 2016.

He turned to his waiting companion, a small, rare smile gracing his lips. Body language often conveyed more than he could (or would) in words, it’s simplicity something he favoured over the layered complexities of spoken word. It transcended even geographical boundaries, leaping over hurdles of different tongues. But perhaps because his voice box was so unused to speech, his voice was low and quiet, almost difficult to hear against the chatter around them. “You ready? Zhan will be there.”

“Please,” Rin huffed after a moment, her own voice a bit louder than his, though this was nothing new or even surprising. “Combat with my dear husband is a much loved hobby.” An impish smile, a slight tilt of her head. “Are you ready? I will be there.”

Female Vampire (Jesús Franco, 1973) The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Miss Osbourne (Walerian Borowczyk, 1981)

from TELL ME WHAT COLOR THE SUN REALLY IS // h. yenna kim (via openlylesbian)

“So,” he looked toward Rin. “Will you finally beat Zhan’s ass?” A smirk slowly stretching against his pretty features, a lethal statement disguised as a challenge. 

“Perhaps,” was the delayed response, hissed with a violence in its undertones that didn’t quite match the way her lips pulled back from her teeth in a fiendish smile — or was it a snarl? — whichever served as a more apt description of a tempest . “And you? Will you fight your dear brother? Or simply run from him again?”

— Tamiko Beyer, from “I Vow To Be the Small Flame,” Last Days (via lifeinpoetry)

— Danez Smith, from “recklessly,” published in Vinyl 

Yua by Louisa Meng