#seraphids

[piraticalarchive]

Taylor why are you elitist 😔✌🏼

[vicmte]

RAOUL. WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOR DINNER? or forever. dinner is ok too.

@sanctamater​ has sent a note! Also @seraphids​.

HE BASKS IN THE WARMTH OF A MOTHER’S WELCOME. Returning to the city from years of travel, he finds familiar faces save for his brother and sisters wanting. and has been rather forlorn, particularly when he wonders if the new opera singer at the Palais Garnier remembers her as well as he does her. So the Lady Comstock appears to him the embodiment of affection and kindness.

Eagerly does he accept her offer to dinner. Were it not for decorum, he would embrace her as a son would. Instead, he hopes he conveys his delight and sincerity through his reply.

        “Madam, I will be honoured. But I mustn’t         come empty-handed. Which do you like -         wine or champagne?”

[shapetorn]

stinki

yes they are. so are you. 

[ravnswood]

                                          @seraphids​  asked :      secrets                                        one - word prompts   ( accepting! )

secrets :   my  muse  sharing/confiding  their  deepest,  darkest  secret  with  your  muse.

her  hands  are  trembling   ;   her  breast  heaves  with  each  painful  breath .    it  is  as  though  her  every  instinct   ---   whatever  distorted  influence  shame  and  decency  still  hold  over  a  haunted  mind   ---  urges  her  not  to  share .     yet  melanie  can’t  help  it ,   couldn’t  stop  herself  if  she  really  tried .    the  secret  has  been  festering  within  for  so  long .   it  will  kill  her   ---   it  is  killing  her ,   slowly  devouring  her   ---   if  she  does  not  get  it  out .

❝  when  my  parents  d--- ❞        her  words  break  off  in  a  rasp .   she  must  stop  herself ,   drawing  in  a  deep  breath  to  gather  her  composure ,   then  try  again .            ❝  when  my  father  died . . .   it  was ,   in  the  very  cruelest  way ,   a  relief .   i  realized  then  that  i  was  free . . .   from  every  bond  they  placed  upon  me ,   everything  they  demanded  me  to  be .   and . . .   though  my  heart  was  truly  breaking ,   i  felt  glad ,   in  tiny ,   terrible  flashes . ❞             there  it  is .    her  shame ,   and  that’s  not  even  the  worst  of  it .        

❝  when  my  uncle  arthur  passed ,   i  sobbed  for  hours  in  relief . . .   though  i  told  myself  it  was  joy  to  know  him  free  of  pain ,   that  wasn’t  the  truth .   i  was  so  relieved  not  to  have  to  look  after  him  anymore . . .   watching  him  suffer ,   feeling  his  pain . ❞            that  one ,   in  a  way ,   is  almost  understandable . . .    yet  still  unforgivable .     the  worst  is  yet  to  come.

 ❝  and  when  jake  --- ❞        she  breaks  off  in  a  soft  whimper ,   pressing  a  hand  to  her  lips .    no ,   she  can  finish  this . . .    she  must .           ❝  when  jake  left  me ,   i  shattered  to  pieces ,   yet  a  part  of  me . . .   oh  god  a’mercy ,   a  part  of  me ,   again ,   was   g l a d  !   some  awful ,   wicked  part  of  me ,   i  ---  i --- ❞         she  is  weeping  in  earnest  now ,   a  trembling  voice  and  silent  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks .           ❝  glad  because  i  didn’t  have  to  leave  the  life  i  knew ,   the  life  i  so  wanted  to  escape . . .   though  i  wanted  to !   glad  that  i  wouldn’t  betray  my  family ! ❞      

crumpling  at  last ,   like  a  puppet  with  her  strings  cut ,   melanie  buries  her  face  in  her  hands .          ❝   why  do  i  feel  joy  when  everyone  i  love  dies ?  ❞

[composer-of-the-night-moved]

@seraphids​ liked for a starter

     He heard Christine enter, but his eyes did not leave the parchment he was furiously writing on. “ I am surprised you came back. ” His voice was low, fingers twitching as he gripped his quill. “ I thought you preferred the company of that boy now... ”.  

[vampirium-blog1]

when u clean do you prefer to use vacuums cause they also suck or

he h hEh he hhe

[antialibi]

Something’s not right about what I’m doing but I’m still doing it.

CAREFUL,   CHRISTINE :                    i see fractures in the porcelain of your skin and i’m inclined to see only shadows beneath ;     no smooth ivory,    no hardened steel.

“   i see you’ve been doing some thinking.   ”     it only took   one   misbehaving woman to wreak absolute havoc,   this much was true.     but the void’s pawn had been taken out of play,   her mind half - decayed,   and her motives suddenly   swayed  .     restlessness settled like ants at the tips of her fingers and in the soles of her feet,    but there wasn’t anything for her to do.     corruption   was all that was left ;     a single tactic remaining     -    to help the vessel see what her   chaos   truly looked like,   without   peering into a mirror.     she sat with her back to the wall and a huge bouquet of roses embraced in her arms.     she could smell the rotten perfume of the petals,   though they still were lush with red ;     death just below the surface.

the singer could pace the   full width   of the mirror and she would not see the vessel.     charlotte only existed in the corner of her eye,   gone in a blink      /      present with just a thought.     a hand so pale and so thin that it might have just been candlelight reflected,   waved over the faces of the roses,   stroking the silky petals.       “   that’s the first step to making sure everything goes to hell.   ”

your room is in bloom,   the envy of honest gardens everywhere.     you wear the flowers in your hair,   your skin imbued with their fragrance.     but you are no gardener,    are you,    christine?     i look closely and see no   dirt   beneath your fingernails,   no scratches on your knees from where you would’ve knelt in the garden - bed.     have you ever   buried   anything beneath the earth and the soil?     DEAD  THINGS   LIKE  ME  HELP   LOVELY  THINGS  LIKE  YOU  GROW.     would you say that’s fair?

charlotte’s fingernails were broken,   as per usual ;     the keratin was jagged and it stuck out at strange angles :     if she held up her hand with the fingers pressed together,    she could imagine a mountain - line out of the awful condition of her nails.       “   if you start to think,   then you’ll have to stop.     if you stop,   then you’ll have to feel.    and if you   feel  ,    then you’ll have to   die  .   ”       with a quick twist,   charlotte wrenched one of the rose’s heads off.     then,   much more slowly,    she enclosed it in her fist and became to squeeze.     the petals folded easily and soon,   she couldn’t tell what was flower and what was her own flesh.       “   so don’t think too hard.     like you said :     but you’re still doing it.     that’s the way.     you gotta commit and dive in head first.   that way,   ”       she paused,    voice lifting to a cheery,   playful pitch.     the rose head had been squashed into a small mass,    the sugar - water dripping down charlotte’s wrist.     she held up the balled - up petals between her thumb and forefinger,   then threw it at mild velocity at christine’s head.       “   you won’t feel the pain of chaos’ teeth sinking into you!   ”        the agent of chaos threw her head back,    golden hair drenched in the shadows,   and cackled.

dead things like me should never be buried beneath gardens in the first place ;     because dead things like   me   will only bloom   deadlier things   like what   you will become  .             /         @seraphids   .

[viibrato-blog]

@seraphids cont

  HER WORDS ENRAGE him and yet her kindness knows no boundaries. Yellow eyes stare at her for a moment or two before they glance away; his dark brows knit together behind a white porcelain mask. Shame on him for doubting her, and her humanity! Shame on him for ever daring to speak to her in such an unkind way, even when his own self loathing knows no boundaries of its own either. He slightly turns away then, and murmurs a pained, “my apologies.” His hands move up on their own accord to momentarily grasp either side of his malformed head. How could he? He felt conflicted -- on one side, no one ever means whatever good ( even regular! ) praise they direct his way -- unless it’s directed at his music -- but on the other, Christine isn't known to lie, and she certainly wouldn't do so so blatantly. He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “I am simply not used to such displays of sincerity.   “Tell me, my dear, what would you do in my place? No -- no. Don't answer that, please. Such a thing is unthinkable,” he answers, his golden voice coating each syllable. Damn him for thinking of it! She shouldn't be compared to him at all -- She was an angel, come from heaven itself, and he dared not ever put her in his place ( Hell! A wretched demon! ). “Your faith in your compassionate words is highly appreciated. Don't think they aren't for a moment. It is simply, you must understand, hard to believe, considering the lack of people who'd ever spoken them.” What has he ever done to deserve such kindness from her? A woman with pain lodged in her heart, who had, for little more than three months, found comfort in his music? And so perhaps... things weren't as bad after all.