language is the garment of thought thanatos also known as (alternate verses): edward york; adrien nott note: this is an indie rp blog --multiverse disclaimer: gifs and icons are not mine unless stated otherwise. under reconstruction tracks: postremomors
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
Happy New Year to everyone~ ;D
ps. will be active this coming friday again~ wee~
0 notes
Link
bonjour, mates! i just want to inform you lots that i won't be here much for the next few days due to the upcoming new year; thus, if you want to get in touch with me, you may leave me an ask via my personal blog~ ps. i might do some replies if time doesn't forbid me~
0 notes
Text
{ EVERYTHING that kills me
makes me ƒєєℓ alive }
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
A soft gale breezed through, brushing against his pale cheeks. Chilling but nevertheless, it didn't faze him. Cold was something he had been accustomed too for a place colder than this was a place he called home. Midway of his aimless walk, he stopped and raised his hand mid-air, palms entrenched as a droplet of snow touched against his skin, head tilted towards the sky: winter had finally come. He stood there nonchalantly, his hand finally hidden inside his pocket (the other, holding his cane) when something in his periphery caught his attention. His brow slightly raised as he saw a young woman heading towards his direction (who seemed to be chasing after her umbrella; though, it dropped before it even reached him). The girl spoke, he, in turn, merely stared blankly at her, studying her features. Her hair was akin to that of the snow's, eyes so tranquil and innocent; she seemed young but he knew that she's more than meets the eye. Bending down, he picked up the umbrella and handed it to her. "I believe that thing won't work against a wind this strong." His voice calm and monotonous as always.
postremomors wished upon a star
#vallendester#type: Prose Log#verse: mythology - fantasy#ah..no problem mate ;D thank you for this starter too!
1 note
·
View note
Text
⊰✙∬ Instead of giving a step back and moving away from him (like she normally would), Eleanor staid still. Her eyes remained on his at all times as she listened to every single one of his words. After his question there was a moment silence from her part. She didn’t left something, but someone. This person was long gone and that surely couldn’t be the case, could it? she could have answered his question with honesty, but decided against it. ”No.” That was her simply reply.
"At this point and considering how long I have been in this place, I’m pretty sure that any unfinished business that I had before got finished on their own." The spirit had thought about this topic so many times before and still didn’t have the answer to her questions. "Maybe I’m forced to stay here forever?."
His head slowly tilted its way to the side, unconsciously; it's a mannerism he had whenever he encountered something that's rather...peculiar in his journey in the mortal world. He was almost compelled to rub his chin, akin to the mortals when they're thinking but he found the gesture to unappealing.
Why was she still here then if not for an unfinished business?
"Hm," he hummed as continued to listen at her words; his thoughts deciphering any possibilities that might cause her to stay longer than usual. "Perhaps," his brows furrowed, "Unlikely, nonetheless, the lack of proper burial ceremony...is it?"
"Also, no soul is meant to linger forever."
23 notes
·
View notes
Photo
The night is my domain, and the darkness be my slave.
42 notes
·
View notes
Text

♑ ♉ – The inquiry itself rung bells in the ears of the test subject. A name; she had been stripped of hers years ago, left with the title of the test subject rather than her own identity. Yet recalling it was immediate in her anxieties, wishing to be known as the human being she was rather than the property of another.
"… My name was once Fleurette." She uttered.
"Fleurette..."
A deep, murmured voice left his lips though against the walls, it echoed loudly--too loudly, perhaps. His eyes flitted over her fragile figure. Shifting his cane to his free hand; tapping arrhythmically against the cold-stone floor. Was, she said; he noticed--he's intrigued. Brows raised coolly, he sauntered quietly towards her; his movements moving along with the darkness.
"A lost flower, are you?" A thought spoken aloud. He sat on the floor before her, legs crossed akin to a mortal child's whenever they'd play their games. "For how long, might I ask...?"
adrien-nott came to experiment
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
"I have no regrets."
He sighs to himself, appraising the young man before him rather nonchalantly. A rare one for his age.
A brow quirked, he spoke: “An intriguing notion coming from a man of your age.”

2 notes
·
View notes
Text
"There’s nowhere we can hide."
"Don’t get too close."
"Maybe I should kill myself."
"I’m not listening."
"No one can hurt you now."
"Who do you think you are?"
"You’re gonna catch a cold."
"I wish that you would just leave."
"I love the way you laugh."
"A little evil goes a long, long way."
"Drink the wine."
"Maybe we could stick around for one more drink."
"Here’s to us."
"The last few days have kicked my ass."
"Nothing lasts forever."
"I don’t know what went wrong."
"I don’t need you here."
"Did I fall asleep?"
"I will not die."
"I’ll wait here for you."
"I feel numb."
"Deal with it."
"I don’t care."
"I hate the way I love you."
"I have no regrets."
"I love you too much to hide you."
"I didn’t kill anybody."
"There is no God."
"All monsters are human."
"You look beautiful, but you don’t look fine."
"You’re a liar and a cheat."
"Why do you think I’m here?"
"Crap, are you pregnant?"
"This is just perfect."
"You’ve done enough already."
"Do you know about the box?"
Send one to see how my muse reacts.
30K notes
·
View notes
Quote
Greeting cards routinely tell us everybody deserves love. No. Everybody deserves clean water. Not everybody deserves love all the time.
Zadie Smith, White Teeth (via yannase)
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
You’re only supposed to see
My outer self
My { inside } is too dangerous.
676 notes
·
View notes
Photo

Jakob Hybholt
512 notes
·
View notes