[floreomortis-blog]

holy shit.

[pompurri]

I’m gonna need like 5 years to recover from that taz episode

[floreomortis-blog]

lmfao guess who’s back with a brand new track.

[floreomortis-blog]

my keyboard is turning to shit and I have never wanted to die this much.

[floreomortis-blog]

you won’t sleep when you’re dead, either.

❝ Well that’s kinda a silly way to put it, I’m already dead aren’t I?❞He says, noting the smile coming over him as he eyes the tall elfish man before him. A brow cocked at the statement.  ❝Could say the same fer ya’ But I don’t think sleep is quite the thing you elfs ever need is it?❞

[web1995]

Solar Eclipse 20 May 2012

[floreomortis-blog]

dixperse:

When he does not receive an answer, his stance wary & untrusting. if not for his overwhelming confidence in himself & power to at the very least put up the fight,( if any were to come) he would have turn his way elsewhere & leave. But he is a curious one, & leaving would leave him open to an opportunity by this entity to strike against him at any moment so he chooses against it.

Standing his ground, he awaits their answer, & when it comes, surprise greets his features.

A reaper? Here? He didn’t believe much for them in them in the past; though the passages of old books & the occasional databases that he & Vi would discover through old libraries. they were more a fable than an actual thing here in this world. Which for Lewis would have made more sense considering his situation. He eyes their blade with discreet reticence.

❝ The Grim Reaper…❞

He says, under the husk of his breath. The one & only he assumes, but there have been legends of more than one, so maybe this is only just the pluck of many. He is not sure, but what is he sure of is that given the status of his life, ( the one he doesn’t have much of anymore.) It is possibly clear even to him, what they could be here for. A possibility he tests, but maybe it isn’t and he shouldn’t worry. Lifting his stance, he addresses them, pulling ambivalent caution from the coat of his words. He doesn’t want to show fear.

❝So you’re actually real then huh? Who would have thought. I heard all about you before, in books they used to have you labeled off in fiction, sometimes even as devoid legend. I never once try to doubt it but, I also didn’t think I’d actually meet the real deal. ❞

❝ I would say that's bout’ rite.❞

He nods only once curtly, he doesn’t want to seem like he’s making too much converse. Too much room for talk. This is about business. But he seems appreciative of the line of respect the specter has added to his name. Even if it is just by a little. ( Some aren’t alway so courteous and more than once a lesson is meant to be made, but he’s glad for this one at least to have a sense of regard for his populace title.)  He continues to eye them over, noting their apparent higher stature and glow to their what he could other wise call ball of hair??? atop their head.

They’re definitely a very unique one, probably one of the rarity. but still very much undead, and by the laws of which he walks from, governs himself around and participates firmly with no sway of misstepped diligence, are breaking quite a bit of code. The blade in his hand gleams with anticipation, but he can see the wariness in their eyes, they’re on the tips of their toes probably, so maybe he should play it safe. (No need to to start a fight just yet.)

❝ ''ell wot they daan't tell ya in those lil' books is that we reapers tend ter be quite the crafty quiet ones. our existence aint 'eally sumthin’ for mortals ter contemplate.❞

He affirms with a small smile tucked subtly to his lip, watching as they stand more straight. ( An intimidation check he assumes-) Letting his scythe’s wooden handle still to the floor with a  thump as he continues to speak.

❝ nd If it was’ 'ell maybe I wouldn't be such a fable ter ya would I?❞

[floreomortis-blog]

I can’t believe the main villain of this story is a rich old dude in a suit and tie.

[floreomortis-blog]

you know what’s cool? a basilisk.

He eyes them, incredulity pouring low beneath the mixture of his brows coming together to fuddle a look. A Titled head then a subtle quirk.❝ A basilisk is that right?  ❞ He repeats, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard that one come about before. Much less know of its image than of its name.  ❝You ever actually seen one before?  ❞

[floreomortis-blog]

❝ listen, you need some blood? i can totally get you some blood. ❞

❝ Blood? ❞

He blinks only once, a little perturbed by the suggestion, though he shouldn’t be so rattled by the answer. ( Taako the ever so spontaneous with answers and thoughts...) He sheepishly provides a simple shake of his head, a simple no to suggest against it, even adds a lazy but quick hand up to emphasis his assertion

❝Oh no- no no.. we uh, we won’t be needing any of that I don’t suppose so.  ❞ he assures them, though the latter of it comes off like he’s laughing it off a little to himself, a cracked smile tiptoeing  over the boundary of his lips in subtle succession, he can’t even suppress a chuckle. Husky and short-lived.

❝ You don’t--that won’t be neccesary I promise you, there won’t be any need to hunt me down any blood. Frankly I could do the job myself but it’s not likely I’ll need any for the time being. ❞

[painstation-deactivated20181026]

[skrotchevo]

[oldthe-nothing-maker]

but spring always comes

[sarahfinchers-blog]

wtnv proverb sentence starters.

look to the north.  keep looking.

there’s a special place in hell.  it’s really hip.  very exclusive.

a million dollars isn’t cool.

you know what’s cool?  a basilisk.

it must be 3:23 P.M. somewhere.  maybe space?

today is the last day of your life up to this point.

if i said you had a beautiful body, would it even matter because we are so insignificant in this vast, incomprehensible universe?

werner herzog is the most interesting person.

pain is just weakness leaving the body – and then being replaced by pain. lots of pain.

the human soul weighs 21 grams, smells like grilled vegetables, looks like a wrinkled tartan quilt, and sounds like bridge traffic.

your body is a temple. a temple of blood rituals and pagan tributes, a lost temple, a temple that needs more calcium. 

sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never quite describe the pain.

we’re so small. so very very small.

a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single command from a satellite-activated mind control chip.

listen, you need some blood?  i can totally get you some blood.

everything is a sandwich.

you won’t sleep when you’re dead, either.

at your smallest components, you are indistinguishable from a forest fire.

wonderwall is the only ‘90s song visible from space.

everything that happens, happens for a reason – except ostriches. what the hell, man?

language will evolve irregardless of your attempt to literally lock it away in a secluded tower, obvs.

beware of greeks bearing gifts. also beware of gifts of greek bears. gifted and bare greeks are totally ok.

i let my haters be my motivators. mostly they tell me i suck, and then i get sad. 

stop going to knife fights altogether.  what’s your deal with knife fights?

get the body you’ve always wanted. we know where it’s buried, and can lend you a shovel.

a rose by any other name is called something else.

the word “motel” is an amalgam of the words “hotel” and “murder”.

dance like the government is watching.

live every day like it’s your first.

you are what you eat. that’s very confusing phrasing; let me simplify: you consume your own flesh. 

[floreomortis-blog]

once this last week of finals is done. I’ll be free.

[floreomortis-blog]

I owe griffin my goddamn life

[3j-unit]

i’m not scared of the dark