DEATHLESS.

𝘒𝘈𝘛𝘑𝘈  𝘔𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘋𝘐𝘕.  𝘖𝘙𝘐𝘎𝘐𝘕𝘈𝘓  𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘛𝘌𝘙. est.  2012  /  written  by  charlee.

[greymoralities-blog]

/

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

What else do you want from me? What kind of heart? What kind of emptiness in it?

Nikolay Punin, from a letter to Anna Akhmatova featured in Anna of All the Russias: A Life of Anna Akhmatova (via violentwavesofemotion)

[greymoralities-blog]

[greymoralities-blog]

/

[greymoralities-blog]

‘ fuck the idea that there is such a thing as destiny ’

AM.   /  @hellsupreme

“  destiny  is  something  i  thought  you  witches  believed  in. ”  katja  plucks  the  gloves  from  her  fingers  and  pockets  them,  looking  down  the  alleyway  they  stand  in  for  any  signs  of  intrusion.  when  she  sees  no  one,  she  looks  at  fiona.  “  we  have  something  in  common,  then. ”  (  who  would  have  thought  it?  )  katja  turns  her  coal  eyes  to  the  dead  human  pressed  into  the  small  gap  between  the  wall  and  the  garbage  skip.  his  mouth  is  agape  in  terror,  his  eyes  wide  and  glassy.  she  reaches  down  and  touches  his  icy  flesh  with  her  bare  fingertips,  forcing  his  stiffened  head  to  the  side  so  that  she  can  examine  his  neck.  untouched.  “  wrong  place,  wrong  time.  this  one  wasn’t  important. ”  and  it  had  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  destiny.  “  but  it  wasn’t  done  by  a  vampire.  your  kind,  perhaps.  he  was  …  petrified. ”  (  what  did  you  see  that  scared  you  so?  )

[kittoforos]

Because of some strange, animal cunning, however, [Raskol'nikov] chose to conceal his strength for the time being, lie low, and pretend he still did not know what was going on. Meanwhile, he would listen, and try to figure out what was going on.

Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky

local confused axe-murderer continues to be astonishingly relatable

(via rokirovka)

[valyrianpoem]

list of costumes

character: Anna Alexandrovna Vyrubova, lady-in-waiting and the best friend of Russian Empress Alexandra Feodorovna; series: Grigori R (Rasputin), 2014; appearance: episode 6; period: 1910s.

[asperad-deactivated20190203]

mieczlw‌:

BEFORE  SHIPPING  WITH  ME ,  YOU  NEED  TO  KNOW   //  

i  will  get  invested  almost  instantly. 

i  will  invade  your  inbox  //  im’s  //  discord  etc  for  plots  //  headcanon’s  //  and  general  yelling  about  our  ship. 

i  will  tag  you  in  gifsets  //  images  //  posts  that  remind  me  of  our  ship.  

i  will  send  you  almost  every  meme  you  reblog  //  pop  into  your  ask  IC  spontaneously.  

i  will  get  on  your  nerves  eventually  but  that’s  fine  we’re  fine  it’s  fine.  

i  won’t  force  anything  on  you  that  you’re  not  comfortable  with  and  will  always  discuss  any  uncomfortable  //  triggering  subjects  with  you.  because  as  my  rp  partner  and  friend  i  respect  you  and  your  boundaries.  

[greymoralities-blog]

‘ i still wonder who i would have been ’

“  why  would  you  do  that?  what  about  who  you  could  still  be?  ”  the  regret  is  pointless,  the  wondering  is  pointless.  imagining  the  past.  what  could  have  been.  all  of  it  is  futile,  and  she  sits  behind  her  desk  and  tilts  her  head  at  amelia.  “  it  will  not  change  who  you  are  now.  what  you  are.  consider  your  immortality  a  gift,  not  a  curse.  you  have  been  given  the  opportunity  to  be  whoever  you  want  to  be.  ”  since  the  beginning  of  their  creation,  vampires  have  been  ever  malleable.  (  we  adapt  to  the  society  we  exist  in  or  we  die.  )  progress,  or  get  left  behind.  lost  to  the  past.  her  careful  eyes  observe  the  young  vampire’s  face,  peeling  back  the  skin  of  her  skull  and  reaching  in  to  her  inner  most  thoughts.  “  i  have  seen  vampires  lost  to  their  history  because  they  cannot  forget  their  past,  cannot  look  forward.  you  must  look  forward,  or  you  will  go  insane.  ”

AM.   /  @deathtake

[adrasteiax]

Death’s a sad bone; bruised, you’d say, and yet she waits for me, year after year, to so delicately undo an old wound, to empty my breath from its bad prison.

Anne Sexton, from Wanting To Die in “The Complete Poems Of Anne Sexton” (via adrasteiax)

[theqveenofthornsarchive]

Janet Montgomery in Salem (2014)

[greymoralities-blog]

hmm posts aren’t showing up

[greymoralities-blog]

( velvetipped‌ )

           the way she sits in her seat is rather  …  rigid .  as if being comfortable wasn’t something she could  afford .   she has to keep her guard up around women,  monsters,  like katja .  ever so quick to react,  much like herself .   ‘ i have eternal life,  my love .   it gets  boring  every so often  …  ‘  thus,  she finds herself here,  in  england  of all places .    there’s a moment of silence as she crosses one leg over the other,  a quirk in her brow as katja mentions to  witch supreme .   ‘  and what,  pray - tell,  did the supreme witch want from you ? ‘  there’s judgement in her tone,   the  demon  sucking in her cheeks,  almost as if sucking on a lemon .  she’s bitter,  she always is when faced with creatures who are older than her .  consider it  …  cautiousness .   ‘  i heard through the grapevine that witches despise your kind .  it must have been something important,  hm ? ‘ 

“  being  confined  to  a  room  for  too  long  is  out  of  the  question?  hm?  ”   mysteriously.  found  face  down.  the  door  locked.  if  erzsebét  thinks  that  katja  is  alluding  to  her   death,  then  she  would  be  absolutely  right.  (  see,  a  funny  bone.  )   although  the  arched  windows  of  her  library  are  covered  by  thick,  vermillion  curtains,  she  can  still  hear  the  thunder  roaring  outside,  and  the  incessant  beating  of  the  rain  against  the  glass.  the  lights  in  their  misted  cages  surge  brighter,  then  flicker  and  dim  and  give  the  room  a  supernatural  tint  to  it.  in  the  shadows  it  is  harder  to  see  what  face  she  wears.  and  with  every  crack  of  lightning  the  mask  sits  translucent  for  a  moment.  katja  looks  down  at  the  chess  board  between  them  and  considers  a  game.  “  what  does  anyone  want  with  me,  erzsebét?  ”  her  accent  draws  out  thicker  around  her  hungarian  neighbour.  “  she  needed  help.  so  i  gave  her  my  help.  it  is  nice  to  have  their  supreme  in  my  pocket,  if  only  for  one  single  favour.  ” 

[greymoralities-blog]

(  velvetipped·  )

♡   /  @greymoralities !

           ‘  do i need a reason to visit ?   ‘   ice blue hues  rest  on the form of the other woman,  unmoving,  as if she can see  right  through her . head tilts to the side,  the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips . ‘  must everything be about business ?  i was  in the area,  i thought it important to stop by .  us immortal beings are still entitled to social lives,  aren’t we ?  ‘ 

“  you  were  in  the  area.  ”   now  what  reason  would  erzsébet  bathory  have  for  being  forty  five  minutes  outside  of  exeter?  other  than  to  visit  katja?  a  social  call?  unlikely,  but  not  impossible,  she  supposes.  they  watch  each  other  like  two  sharks  simultaneously  coming  across  a  chunk  of  bloody  meat.  (  will  we  share  it?  or  fight  over  it?  who  will  lunge  first?  )  “  knowing  you,  there  is  always  a  reason  for  your  visits.  but  if  you  want  to  call  it  a  social  visit  ...  ”  the  subtlest,  most  regal  smile  ghosts  the  edges  of  her  mouth.  it  is  a  formal  one.  they  are  not  friends.  katja  knows  all  about erzsébet’s  sordid  past time.  little  girls.  young  women.  mutilation.  katja  is  no  stranger  to  killing,  but  it  has  never  been  for  recreation  the  way  it  is  for  bathory.   “  you  missed  a  very  interesting  visit  from  the  witch  supreme.  ”

[greymoralities-blog]

(  deathtake‌  )

               Amelia felt as if this woman was calling her STUPID, or at least alluding to it. She suddenly got defensive, lifting her little nose and puffing up her chest. ❝ I could probably figure it out, ❞ she stated, not quite knowing why she was trying to impress this unnamed woman. She looked as if she was carved of stone; so cold, so empty              as empty as this big beautiful house. What Amelia expected once her apology was given, was not to be kicked out but welcomed.

              ❝ What ? No. You’re the first vampire I’ve met. ❞

she’s  learnt  not  to  underestimate  anyone  ...  though  perhaps,  at  times,  she  comes  across  as  a  little  disparaging. (  she  can  assure  you  that  it  is  just  her  face  and  little  more  than  that  ).  she  entertains  the  idea  that  this  fledgeling  could  figure  out  the  goings  on  in  a  political  underworld  that  she  knows  nothing  about.  (  and  maybe  she  could,  with  a  little  guidance  ).  “  of  course.  i  only  mean  that  it  would  be  wiser,  and  safer,  not  to  pry.  ”

“   ...  yes?  ”   (  your  point?  )  her  brows  twitch.  (  how  young  are  you?  who  was  it?  who  created  you?  )  “  am  i  to  be  rewarded  for  being  the  first  vampire  you  have  come  across?  you  will  come  across  other  vampires.  ”  if  she  is  expecting  katja  to  take  her  under  her  wing,  to  tutor  her  and  make  a  protégé  out  of  her,  then  she  will  be  sorely  disappointed.  katja  has  one  already.  the  only  potential  she  has  seen  in  this  vampire  is  her  ability  to  sneak  into  york  avenue  almost  undetected.  and  yet!  (  ask  her  name!  no.  )  “   if  you’ll  excuse  me  ...  ”

[whisperthatruns]

That is the purpose of stories, that no matter where we walk in the world, we walk twice: once in the warm sunshine, and once in the silvery light of every tale we have ever heard, seeing each thing as it is, and also as it was.

Catherynne M. Valente, from The Habitation of the Blessed (Night Shade Books, 2010)

[candlewinds]

Let’s just say he had some help.