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ninthflowr.bsky.social
mun ☕️
@ninthflowr.bsky.social
72 followers 67 following 450 posts
27 • 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 • antes escribía, ahora estoy leyendo
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ninthflowr.bsky.social
𝟑. 𝐥𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭
your father was a drunk and now you fear that everything you love will end up consuming you. desires taste of sin and shame –you are your father's daughter. you practice the penance of fasting from the things that bring you joy, terrified of the immensity of that hunger and thirst entangled deep within. what you touch you corrupt, so cut your own hands and sew your mouth and scratch your eyes out because you will not be your father, you say. but you already are. why else would you bite the hand that feeds you? you call yourself a martyr and expect the altars because your grief is perpetual and its weight unfathomable; you bear it with such honour that praise must be due. you yearn for a saint to idolise with endless devotion and to loathe forevermore. someone has to take the fall. you look inward and see only charcoal and rot: what you seek to hide and long to be forgiven. this is what you know. this is what you do. at the end of the day, you’re still a frightened child waiting by the door. (they tell you over and over again that for someone to love you, you must love yourself first. how do you learn to be worthy of anything else, of something more, when the only kindness you've ever known is that of regretful eyes and forgotten vows? to be seen is to be tear apart.) you lock yourself away biding in shackles, just as your father keeps his best bottles in the liquor cabinet.
November 15, 2025 at 10:59 AM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
No es que abandonase el NaNo, es que las visitas a la familia son lo que son (no hay escritura niño solo abuela).
November 11, 2025 at 2:45 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
𝟐. 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭
as the last card is drawn, whatever will come to be has already been named. that's not how it happens. it will be too late when you realise; you will already be tainted to the core. golden child, raven king, god of the woods, when will you learn that there’s no heroes, only daredevils? the price of a myth is that you will never live to tell your own. that's not how it happens. what will kill you first, the tar chocking your lungs or your potential? that's not how it happens. your first kiss is the sting. mute. in the womb of the earth the light dares not look. blind. no sound in the depths except the buzzing, ever louder. deaf. there is a hand that seeks you but cannot find you, or so they say. blood calls to blood without eyes or teeth. roots tangled around the fingers digging, pulling. you ache and you burn in conviction, that rescue is buried in the bones of the one you call out to in dreams. loyalty is a dog that always returns to its master. that's not how it happens. from the table, The Death stares back at you.
November 4, 2025 at 9:19 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
𝟏. 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞
on the last day it will be me and my wraith. on the last day my wraith and i; a memory and its absence. (so tell me: if no one can bear witness, does it make me an archivist or a fraud?) the envoy leads straight ways by truth and will try to make light conversation. “when everything you had and everything you did become nothing, what remains?” the final trial will claim what is owed. this too is absolute. “if i get to choose, might my greater achievement be this: i’m closer to the purpose of my making than i ever was and i’ll ever be.” (the lot is cast.) my wraith will show me nothing but a voice like that of a jackal: all fangs and honey. their stagnant water stillness promises to swallow me if i slip. “do you not fear God? these transgressions are your condemnation. do you dare to speak of Him without prudery?” “what would He punish me for?” and because it is written, because that is how the story must be and not otherwise, i’ll drink the sour wine. i’ll say: “God may be God, but so am I.” the sword will cut my throat before i get to feel the edge; blood will stain this holy blade, the unblemished hands of my death never the same since then. “shall no one deceived me with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. insolent child! you hypocrite of a faithless, how come that you deluded yourself into believing you are His equal? what are you, to takes His name in vain? what are you?” my last words will be mine ­and mine alone. “I am as He is; both beginning and end.”
November 3, 2025 at 7:54 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
1. the living room
November 3, 2025 at 7:39 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
Y digo un poco raro porque no pude hacer inktober en octubre así que traigo 2x1.
Voy a seguir una lista antigua de @/colectivo1977 porque hace un par de años quise terminarla y no pude y me gusta un montón.
November 3, 2025 at 7:37 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
me ha gustado mucho más el rollo de ese libro la verdad, he quedado muy contenta
October 31, 2025 at 9:32 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
estaba para recrear “MI CABELLO ES DE VERDAD” pero sigo sin saberme el audio
October 31, 2025 at 9:31 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
pues justo empecé “our wives under the sea” al terminar con el otro y me está gustando muchísimo!! seguramente me lo termine mañana, me ha durado nada
October 30, 2025 at 9:40 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
xlvii. diary of a wimpy kid: rodrick rules
dir. david bowers

★★★
October 30, 2025 at 9:16 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
xiv. don't let the forest in
c. g. drews

“to cut out his heart was actually such a small thing.”

★½
October 30, 2025 at 9:12 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
xiii. frutos (larga vida al rey #3)
irene morales

“—en cualquier otro mundo, te habría dado la vida que merecías.”

★★★½
October 30, 2025 at 9:11 PM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
no me acuerdo creo que me dio la espalda para dormir y se rió de mí por dormir con mi pato de luz.
October 30, 2025 at 10:42 AM
ninthflowr.bsky.social
cris me hizo ver este tweet con maldad. día arruinado.
October 30, 2025 at 10:39 AM