#seagraced

[genbumiko-blog]

seagraced replied to your post:i kinda sorta want to make a luna or eudial blog...

OMFG EUDIAL WOULD BE AMAZING

she’s my fav c: i just don’t know how i would portray her.

[deadxscream]

mujonainu replied to your post “I wasn’t able to really be online yesterday because of school stuff...”

UR SO PRETTY

[[ Omg nooooooooo /)////(\ but jalksdjfasdf thank you!! ]]

seagraced replied to your post

I saw your snapchat of the processing and I have to say I am so proud of you also hella babe i'm in loveeee

[[ ajsdlfkjadsf thank you bb!! ; // o // ; ilu2 <3 ]]

[maleficprince-blog]

@seagraced replied to your post:I'm surprised you have to mention Demande/Saphir...

for the anon: it’s actually an incredibly popular ship. Especially when it comes to Saphir, people have it headcanoned that he’s in love with Demande.

*CARELESS WHISPER NO LONGER INTENSIFIES*

[deadxscream]

kazenoheishi replied to your post “taceat-in-ruinam replied to your post “These three 100% have pulled...”

i actually have no idea what's worse: haruka's immediate reaction, michiru pulling haruka back and verbally shutting that kid down forever or setsuna rolling her eyes but making that kid look into her emotionless face before saying "Stop." in that voice of hers.

[deadxscream]

kazenoheishi replied to your post “ahhHHHHH 

<3 <3 <3 <3

❤❤❤❤❤

galaxychord replied to your post:

Hello flawless. Come here often? WINK WINK.

Not as often as I’m sure you’d like ;)))))

seagraced replied to your post

MY BABE

/smooches!

[deathsglaive-blog]

‘ will you remember me in the same way as I remember you ? ’

DEATH OF A BACHELOR STARTERS. ( accepting )

              She’s rotting on the inside. Or maybe she is still fresh as newly fallen snow. She is one or the other, and nothing in between. Dead or alive —— there is little middle ground, she is death and she is rebirth and she is on the cusp, wavering in between. She looks to her beloved mother and aches, inside. Hotaru aches. Saturn aches, too, a little bit. Heavy is the world upon her shoulders and weighted is the glaive in her hands and she knows, in another life, she would waver beneath it, but she does not. She stands, back straight and shoulders squared and face soft and a smile quirking at tired mouth and eyebrows lift, faint. Love settles in her heart, had seeded long ago and grown its roots and bloomed and it was all that kept her connected, all that kept her from floating away. So isolated she was, before, and now she is LESS SO. She was loved. She is loved. She loves.

                                  Perhaps she is not just the end ushering in the beginning.                                                               maybe you are more than that.

               There is something crumbling within her and she steps forward, drifting, hand reaching out, fingers stretching. A touch, fleeting, to the woman’s cheek, the touch of a daughter. She was not borne by her, she would not be borne by her, they are not connected by blood but MORE THAN THAT. Souls intertwined, locked and woven and she cannot be torn away. Not again. Her heart beats and she cannot regret a thing. ❝ One day I will, I’m sure. You’ll find me again, Michiru-mama, and I’ll remember soon. Maybe this time I can play the cello, ❞ lighthearted tease in the wake of THE END and she jumps away, floating, staff twisting in her hand and she is smiling. Beauty before the end.

[deathsglaive-blog]

✦@seagraced

              There are times  —— though they may be rare —— when she misses life as it was, when it had just been the four of them, day in and day out. When she spent her days reading, wandering aimlessly, practicing the violin, playing with Haruka-papa. At least, she misses it then, as slim fingers twist the pegs in an attempt to tune the instrument on her own. It’s too small for her, now. She has grown and the violin will be too small to fit in her arms and be comfortably played. A misplaced NOSTALGIA within her yearns for the instrument, regardless, but perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised as the D string snaps as she turns the peg too far. Still, she jumps in her seat and a surprised noise falls from her mouth as the sound echoes ( loud, it’s strangely loud ) and she stares at the instrument, abruptly at a loss. Something within her echoes, and she stares down at the instrument she isn’t even able to play, anymore. A string can be replaced, but it’s too small. She grew too fast. She wonders if she feels sad.